Six weeks ago, Mountain Man walked away from his dream job.
In this economy some would call him crazy.
We thought we'd be here until he retired in oh...about eighty-seven-thousand-years.... or whenever he turned 65.
It didn't really occur to us that we would move again; and we certainly didn't want to move our kids one more time. Because well, it just plain sucks being the new kid at school...and it sucks to leave friends...and it sucks to start over and have to figure out how to navigate making it to the bathroom in the middle of the night in a new house.
To be honest, I'm just not that evolved, so for me, change usually sucks.
Wrapping my mind around this change has been ugly...and...beautiful.
Sometimes events that begin as ugly little seeds of uncertainty evolve into joyful blooms.
I'm hoping that is what is on the way to our Square Toothed/Mountain Man Clan, a
b i g f a t v a s e of joyful blooms, with a card from God that says, "You made it! Well done! Careful of the door jamb on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night!"
.....but I don't know if He sends flowers.
It would be nice though.
So everyday, I wake up...and hope.
Some moments I feel completely self assured.
Some days, I can see the series of unfortunate events that led our family to this period of uncertainty and change as a path hammered out with good intentions and sadness overcomes me.
Other days I think, "I will just stand back and allow this journey to unfold."
On these days I repeat to myself, "I refuse to own any stress in this situation. All things have led us to this point. Everything happens for a reason."
I feel better on those days.
And on those days, tender mercies, like newly sprouted joyful blooms, poke their little heads up out of the soil of uncertainty.
For instance, recently a flood of lovely, courageous, compassionate and brilliant new friends have showed up to hold lanterns of hope and encouragement along the path. There have been texts, a meal brought to our door, and most tenderly, tears that escaped closed eyes as one friend contemplated what had been lost.
Up until that moment I hadn't really allowed myself to face the reality.
I was scared that alllllllll my emotions would overcome me, and I would be left tossed and turned like drift wood in the tide.
But those tears, shed by another's eyes, allowed me to face the trauma.
And you know what?
It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.
I found that because it was spread between the two of us, I could carry it.
What an unimaginable gift those tears were amid this uncertainty and change...
...water enough for a joyful bloom to sprout right before my eyes.
How do you find joyful blooms out of uncertainty?