Well, hello there! It's been SO LONG since I've written here. So much has happened! Last summer as I was sweltering in heat and sinking into yet another case of deep summer blues, I said to Byron that this was it and that we needed to move. I didn't want to be in Texas anymore. It's too hot, too dry. The trees are short. I was exhausted and uninspired. We tried to make it work - mentally and emotionally for a dozen years. Don't get me wrong. Life did work. Mostly. In all the visible ways, we thrived. Yet internally, there were seeds in each of us that were planted yet never watered. What could they blossom into if only watered? Was there a way we could follow our 20 something year old hearts and move to the mountains? To each other, we'd ask, "Remember, we always wanted to do that?" Oh yes, it was time to listen carefully to the soft wisdom that spoke within us both.
So we dug our heels in. I mourned and hoped and tried to live in the moments. I kept my expectations low. Knowing always that the dream just might not come true - at least not at this point in our journey. Months ticked away. Lights turned green. One after the other. I cried or the thought of leaving my loved ones. My heart ached. My heart broke. My heart yearned. At moments, I felt the paralysis of fear of uprooting Bea from the only life she had known. I remembered my breathe. I remembered my breathe. I trusted in myself and in Byron and in Bea that we could do this. That we could broaden our horizons and stretch our world. We could leap and stumble and get up again. We'd have each other. Hand in hand we create our circle.
So we did it. We sold our house. Our dear little blue cottage with it's two big porches and its white picket fence. We said so many goodbyes. We hugged. We cried. We wrote down addresses. We sold and donated lots of furniture and belongings. I swept and mopped and pulled appliances out of their nooks and scrubbed the years away. I rented a mailbox at a UPS store in the area where we planned to land. We packed up our belongings and had them shipped to a storage facility a thousand miles away.
We loaded up Pebbles and Molly (our cat and dog) and Bea's favorite blanket and books. After a week of visiting family along our way, we made our way to our new world - the mountains of Western North Carolina. It's been two months since we said our farewells to the place that held us as we grew up and into a family. I'm not yet at home here. I'm still dependent upon my GPS as I am still finding my way. I am still searching, learning, and trusting that we haven't veered off in the wrong direction. One day, life will feel familiar here. I look forward to that. One day, I might feel as though I have a place here. For now, I am exploring. Finding beauty in so many places. Feeling love and warmth from the earth and it's people. There could be no softer place to land, I suppose. This region overflows with goodness. Still, I'm searching for the feeling of home. It will come.
This little piece of poetry has been a balm to my soul.
Go to the Limits of your Longing
God speaks to each of us as
he makes us.
then walks with us silently out of the night.
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame,
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you:
beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.
Nearby is a country they call Life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.
Rainier Wilke, Book of Hours, I.59
