I forgot what regular felt like.
We lived in the midst of anxiety and the "unknown" and boxes for months. That restless feeling inside my heart became the norm. I took lots of deep breaths, closed my eyes, and thought...it's going to be okay...a few million times a day.
And now it is.
It's okay.
Now I have a living room with magical Internet and all boxes are absent. I still don't have things hung on the walls but it feels like home. My table is set up and we actually eat on it far more than we did in North Carolina. The cat door is back but this time it's minus the "ladder" on the outside as the window sits low to the ground so the cats can easily go in and out without help. That's a good thing as I always called that ladder our little piece of trailer trash.
Tami and I have established a walking routine. We took a hiatus for a short while when we moved from the rental to this home but we are back at it again. We meet at 8:00 which used to be just fine--we still made it home before sunset. But now the sun is heading down when we meet at the track and it's black as midnight when we're done.
Clearly fall is just around the corner. Ah--I love fall. I simply can't wait.
And yet? I can...because I don't want to rush my days. I don't want to rush my life.
I was talking to a friend recently whose son just left for a year overseas as a missionary. She said, "I wish I could just snap my fingers and this year would be over and he would be back. But? I really don't because I can't afford to miss a year."
I know what she means.
Roy has been working 'round the clock on the house. His to-do list appears endless and he is feeling the pressure as he starts his job this coming week.
Everything in my life over the past seven months has fallen into place in perfect timing.
When we knew we would be leaving North Carolina, I shared with one of my good friends that all of the unknowns were stressful, that they kept me up at night. And she said, You don't need to worry. It will fall into place without your stress. Life is moving you forward and you just need to sit back and watch it happen.
Oh my, how right she was.
I stand amazed.
And now I just get to live the regular.
I still love driving down our road, seeing our house at the dead-end. That feeling still rises in my chest every single time...I can't believe it's mine.
I never imagined it possible that my sister would be my walking partner, my neighbor...and now she is.
Texas sunsets.
Jace's laughter with friends coming and going.
A fireplace that now sits empty but soon will be alive with dancing flames and crackling wood.
Surround sound in my living room.
Students chatting in my office.
Co-workers who have already become friends.
Brene' Brown every morning as the candle in the burnt orange ceramic vase flickers.
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
Friday, August 26, 2016
No Stone Left Unturned
When we began the process of figuring out where we were moving, I sent up a silent plea: Please let there be a neighbor Jace's age that can hang at our house, that Jace can hang at his house, that will offer friendship and laughter...
And then we moved to Keene. When we were at the rental, I scanned the neighborhood for boys in the 14 year old range with no success. And then when we moved to our new home, I assumed the same: no neighborhood boys close by. The neighbors next to us have small grandchildren that must visit fairly regularly as a plastic car that a child sits in and pushes with their feet hangs on the porch. The people across the street live in a home that sits back a ways from the road and we have never seen them so I assumed they don't have kids either. But? Keene is a small community. If one has a bike, one can ride across town in a matter of minutes. Jace just needed to make some Keene friends and all would be well.
Last night Roy burned trash...again...as he does every night now that we've begun the "moving in" process. And so, I pulled up the bench that hangs out in front of his shop and sat with him while he kept the fire burning. The sky is everywhere out there in the back by the shop and one can't help but just look up. And so I did. It was a quiet evening and the smoke from the fire lazily curled up to the sky as Roy and I talked about everything and yet nothing at all.
The truth of it is, I should have been inside unpacking boxes. I should have been straightening up the mantel over the fireplace and finding a more appropriate home for that really cool owl I purchased from Pier One and the old fashioned phone and the bowl with stripes that I painted at Claying Around and the unopened box that sits up there that I still don't know what's inside. In the past, I have shifted into beast-mode when it comes to unpacking my house. "Two weeks" from start to pictures hung on the wall has always been the flashing goal in my mind that I determinedly hit. But this time? Well, this time an 8-5 job beckons every morning and by evening, I'm toast. And so, last night I unpacked only one box and then headed outside.
I had something on my mind that I wanted to contemplate, something that made me stop in awe. And here is why...
When I got home from work yesterday, Jace ran outside to meet me. "Mom," he said as I got out of the car.
I heard his voice but wasn't sure where his voice was coming from and so I peeked through the fence into the backyard. Roy was mowing out back so I assumed he was there too.
"Mom," he said again. And this time I turned, saw him standing on the sidewalk towards the front of the house.
I couldn't help but laugh at myself. Sometimes, I make me wonder...
"Guess what," Jace said.
"What."
"That house across the street?" Jace pointed to the house that sits back a bit from the road--the one that houses a family we've really never seen. "I made a friend today at school and he lives right there. And Mom, guess what. We're a lot alike."
I just stood there, speechless.
Because honestly, I have no words. Everything...everything...that I prayed for has fallen into place.
No stone has been left unturned.
In October 2016? I made a silent plea.
And now I am living the answer.
And then we moved to Keene. When we were at the rental, I scanned the neighborhood for boys in the 14 year old range with no success. And then when we moved to our new home, I assumed the same: no neighborhood boys close by. The neighbors next to us have small grandchildren that must visit fairly regularly as a plastic car that a child sits in and pushes with their feet hangs on the porch. The people across the street live in a home that sits back a ways from the road and we have never seen them so I assumed they don't have kids either. But? Keene is a small community. If one has a bike, one can ride across town in a matter of minutes. Jace just needed to make some Keene friends and all would be well.
Last night Roy burned trash...again...as he does every night now that we've begun the "moving in" process. And so, I pulled up the bench that hangs out in front of his shop and sat with him while he kept the fire burning. The sky is everywhere out there in the back by the shop and one can't help but just look up. And so I did. It was a quiet evening and the smoke from the fire lazily curled up to the sky as Roy and I talked about everything and yet nothing at all.
The truth of it is, I should have been inside unpacking boxes. I should have been straightening up the mantel over the fireplace and finding a more appropriate home for that really cool owl I purchased from Pier One and the old fashioned phone and the bowl with stripes that I painted at Claying Around and the unopened box that sits up there that I still don't know what's inside. In the past, I have shifted into beast-mode when it comes to unpacking my house. "Two weeks" from start to pictures hung on the wall has always been the flashing goal in my mind that I determinedly hit. But this time? Well, this time an 8-5 job beckons every morning and by evening, I'm toast. And so, last night I unpacked only one box and then headed outside.
I had something on my mind that I wanted to contemplate, something that made me stop in awe. And here is why...
When I got home from work yesterday, Jace ran outside to meet me. "Mom," he said as I got out of the car.
I heard his voice but wasn't sure where his voice was coming from and so I peeked through the fence into the backyard. Roy was mowing out back so I assumed he was there too.
"Mom," he said again. And this time I turned, saw him standing on the sidewalk towards the front of the house.
I couldn't help but laugh at myself. Sometimes, I make me wonder...
"Guess what," Jace said.
"What."
"That house across the street?" Jace pointed to the house that sits back a bit from the road--the one that houses a family we've really never seen. "I made a friend today at school and he lives right there. And Mom, guess what. We're a lot alike."
I just stood there, speechless.
Because honestly, I have no words. Everything...everything...that I prayed for has fallen into place.
No stone has been left unturned.
In October 2016? I made a silent plea.
And now I am living the answer.
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Where the Heart Is
We are officially moved into our new home. This past Friday, Roy spent several hours with the help of four muscled-boys and a 40 foot U-Haul bringing loads from the rental to our new home. They are only about 3 miles apart; however, one has to traverse several stop signs and 20 mph speed limits each jaunt, making the distance feel much further than it actually is.
Meanwhile, while the guys loaded up the house one truck-full at a time, I worked on the "lived in" part of the house: the bathrooms, the closets, the kitchen. We had only unpacked essentials and so Roy and I decided that would be the game plan rather than officially "re-boxing" everything for the boys to load. I had about 5 smaller boxes that I loaded up, hauled out to the trunk of the car, drove to our new home, popped the truck, carried in those boxes, and unloaded them in the appropriate place.
Repeat. A few hundred times.
We started at 9:30 in the morning (as that is when we got back with the U-Haul) and finished well past sundown. Three of the boys stopped around 7:00 that evening, but one of them--Sean-- stayed until the bitter end. Sean was "our kid" for four years at Sunnydale and that is one loyal boy. Roy is "Coach" to him, and Sean would go to the ends of the earth to help him. He's that sort of guy and we are so grateful.
It was a long, hard day. And when we finally laid out heads down on our mattress that night, Roy sighed and said, "It sure feels good to be horizontal."
(That's his infamous line after a hard day's work.)
And so, we have spent the weekend unpacking and organizing and rearranging and shifting and considering. We have gotten up early and gone to bed late. Roy's "to-do" list is monstrous. My educated guess is that it will take him approximately 22.5 years to accomplish it all; however, he says it will all be done by Christmas.
All bets are on; I'll probably lose.
We've turned into country folk. We have two burn barrels with metal grates over them out in the back by the shop that Roy has burning most of the day as otherwise we have too much trash for our big blue trash cans that the city picks up every Tuesday. And when I sit on the back porch in my rocking chair? I look out at property that is mine and I watch the sky ablaze with shades of gold and pink and hues of blue that make me gaze in wonder. Though our house is on the edge of town, once you pull into the driveway, you feel like you're in the middle of nowhere.
It's quiet. It's cozy.
It's home.
Meanwhile, while the guys loaded up the house one truck-full at a time, I worked on the "lived in" part of the house: the bathrooms, the closets, the kitchen. We had only unpacked essentials and so Roy and I decided that would be the game plan rather than officially "re-boxing" everything for the boys to load. I had about 5 smaller boxes that I loaded up, hauled out to the trunk of the car, drove to our new home, popped the truck, carried in those boxes, and unloaded them in the appropriate place.
Repeat. A few hundred times.
We started at 9:30 in the morning (as that is when we got back with the U-Haul) and finished well past sundown. Three of the boys stopped around 7:00 that evening, but one of them--Sean-- stayed until the bitter end. Sean was "our kid" for four years at Sunnydale and that is one loyal boy. Roy is "Coach" to him, and Sean would go to the ends of the earth to help him. He's that sort of guy and we are so grateful.
It was a long, hard day. And when we finally laid out heads down on our mattress that night, Roy sighed and said, "It sure feels good to be horizontal."
(That's his infamous line after a hard day's work.)
And so, we have spent the weekend unpacking and organizing and rearranging and shifting and considering. We have gotten up early and gone to bed late. Roy's "to-do" list is monstrous. My educated guess is that it will take him approximately 22.5 years to accomplish it all; however, he says it will all be done by Christmas.
All bets are on; I'll probably lose.
We've turned into country folk. We have two burn barrels with metal grates over them out in the back by the shop that Roy has burning most of the day as otherwise we have too much trash for our big blue trash cans that the city picks up every Tuesday. And when I sit on the back porch in my rocking chair? I look out at property that is mine and I watch the sky ablaze with shades of gold and pink and hues of blue that make me gaze in wonder. Though our house is on the edge of town, once you pull into the driveway, you feel like you're in the middle of nowhere.
It's quiet. It's cozy.
It's home.
Friday, August 12, 2016
The Rat Race
We were supposed to close on our house this coming Monday.
...and then it became Wednesday...
...and now? Well, who knows.
Here is the fact of the matter in Texas: the housing market is hot. As a result? Appraisals are backed up a forever and so people aren't able to close when they are scheduled to close.
We are caught up in that rat race.
I am not a lover of the rat race. It makes me think of city living and 5:00 traffic and buildings that reach to the sky. The term "rat race" reminds me of apartments and concrete and 3 piece suits. I am more of an open sky sort of girl. I like things simple. I like country roads and small town post offices and one stop light that blinks in the middle of town.
When Roy and I were chasing dreams, I envisioned moving to Alaska. That sounded like a piece of heaven to me simply because it was remote and visions of crisply fallen snow twinkled in my mind. But then we moved to California instead. And that's where we experienced the rat race firsthand as we lived in the heart of Loma Linda where borders blend with San Bernardino on one side and Redlands on the other. We drove the I-10 freeway daily and practically hugged our neighbors on all sides when we exited the car. But of course my sister Lori and her family lived there as well as Jacque and so life was filled with good things such as family and deep friendships and lots of laughter in the midst of tears as that was where Ciara was born. But our California adventure was fleeting as we pulled up stakes after a mere three years and headed for the red skies of New Mexico.
But that's another story.
Sometimes I feel frantic when I think about the fact that we should be moving into our home on Monday and yet we're not. Rage threatens to bubble deep in my chest at the annoyance of it all.
Moving is not for the feint of heart. To be honest, I am ready to be settled. I have had enough of this moving adventure. It is a rat race and I am over it. That's the truth. I am ready ...
,,,for an unpacked house
...for a kitchen where I can find my glass bowls so that I can provide grapes for the alumni board on our monthly Thursday meeting
...for flickering candles on Friday nights
...for a bed that has decorative pillows on it rather than just a haphazardly thrown sheet as Texas nights are warm
,,,for the view out my kitchen window at the house we are buying
...for hanging on my back porch in the rocking chairs we purchased at Target several years ago that are still going strong
...for my television hanging in the living room that I rarely watch but nonetheless it's there for the taking
...for pictures on my wall that cause me to pause and smile.
I have dreams of normal living.
Just yesterday Jace and I had a conversation about his school day. It's a bit longer here in Texas than it was in North Carolina. He gets out at 3:40 rather than 3:15 and he was bemoaning that fact to me. "Jace," I said, exasperated after going 'round and 'round with him over this issue, "you can't control it, so just accept it!"
"I don't even know what that means," he huffed.
"Just let it go," I said. "You know, look at it differently because there's nothing you can do about it. Choose happiness over misery."
Sometimes I give great advice to my kids. But when I need to apply it to myself? I just want to tell me to shut up. (My kids might agree...)
Because here's the thing: I can't control the closing of our house. I have zero ability to knock on the appraiser's door and demand the report that is holding us up.
Right now my cats are chasing a hair band. They are having the time of their lives throwing it up in the air, batting at it, and then nabbing it as though their lives depend on it...utterly carefree. They are totally unaware that their lives are about ready to change once again because they are living in the moment. Folks? My cats know how to live in joy.
And so, I am taking a deep breath this morning. I am focusing on the fact that it is Friday and an entire weekend with Darian stretches before me before she heads off to Southern. We are going to head to the duck pond this evening and feed the ducks stale bread while they quack at us and follow us around like we are heroes. And most likely Chas, Tami and their kids will join us while we walk the pond's perimeter, talking and laughing the entire way. We will stop and gaze up at the sky as it unfolds around us in a dazzling display of grandeur.
I can't control the future. But I can control how I handle the present. And so, today I am committing to...
...taking a deep breath
...basking in the wonders of my life
...finding joy in the midst of the rat race.
...and then it became Wednesday...
...and now? Well, who knows.
Here is the fact of the matter in Texas: the housing market is hot. As a result? Appraisals are backed up a forever and so people aren't able to close when they are scheduled to close.
We are caught up in that rat race.
I am not a lover of the rat race. It makes me think of city living and 5:00 traffic and buildings that reach to the sky. The term "rat race" reminds me of apartments and concrete and 3 piece suits. I am more of an open sky sort of girl. I like things simple. I like country roads and small town post offices and one stop light that blinks in the middle of town.
When Roy and I were chasing dreams, I envisioned moving to Alaska. That sounded like a piece of heaven to me simply because it was remote and visions of crisply fallen snow twinkled in my mind. But then we moved to California instead. And that's where we experienced the rat race firsthand as we lived in the heart of Loma Linda where borders blend with San Bernardino on one side and Redlands on the other. We drove the I-10 freeway daily and practically hugged our neighbors on all sides when we exited the car. But of course my sister Lori and her family lived there as well as Jacque and so life was filled with good things such as family and deep friendships and lots of laughter in the midst of tears as that was where Ciara was born. But our California adventure was fleeting as we pulled up stakes after a mere three years and headed for the red skies of New Mexico.
But that's another story.
Sometimes I feel frantic when I think about the fact that we should be moving into our home on Monday and yet we're not. Rage threatens to bubble deep in my chest at the annoyance of it all.
Moving is not for the feint of heart. To be honest, I am ready to be settled. I have had enough of this moving adventure. It is a rat race and I am over it. That's the truth. I am ready ...
,,,for an unpacked house
...for a kitchen where I can find my glass bowls so that I can provide grapes for the alumni board on our monthly Thursday meeting
...for flickering candles on Friday nights
...for a bed that has decorative pillows on it rather than just a haphazardly thrown sheet as Texas nights are warm
,,,for the view out my kitchen window at the house we are buying
...for hanging on my back porch in the rocking chairs we purchased at Target several years ago that are still going strong
...for my television hanging in the living room that I rarely watch but nonetheless it's there for the taking
...for pictures on my wall that cause me to pause and smile.
I have dreams of normal living.
Just yesterday Jace and I had a conversation about his school day. It's a bit longer here in Texas than it was in North Carolina. He gets out at 3:40 rather than 3:15 and he was bemoaning that fact to me. "Jace," I said, exasperated after going 'round and 'round with him over this issue, "you can't control it, so just accept it!"
"I don't even know what that means," he huffed.
"Just let it go," I said. "You know, look at it differently because there's nothing you can do about it. Choose happiness over misery."
Sometimes I give great advice to my kids. But when I need to apply it to myself? I just want to tell me to shut up. (My kids might agree...)
Because here's the thing: I can't control the closing of our house. I have zero ability to knock on the appraiser's door and demand the report that is holding us up.
Right now my cats are chasing a hair band. They are having the time of their lives throwing it up in the air, batting at it, and then nabbing it as though their lives depend on it...utterly carefree. They are totally unaware that their lives are about ready to change once again because they are living in the moment. Folks? My cats know how to live in joy.
And so, I am taking a deep breath this morning. I am focusing on the fact that it is Friday and an entire weekend with Darian stretches before me before she heads off to Southern. We are going to head to the duck pond this evening and feed the ducks stale bread while they quack at us and follow us around like we are heroes. And most likely Chas, Tami and their kids will join us while we walk the pond's perimeter, talking and laughing the entire way. We will stop and gaze up at the sky as it unfolds around us in a dazzling display of grandeur.
I can't control the future. But I can control how I handle the present. And so, today I am committing to...
...taking a deep breath
...basking in the wonders of my life
...finding joy in the midst of the rat race.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Falling Like Rain
It is early Monday morning and I have a crazy week in front of me:
This afternoon? We are hosting an alumni photo shoot from 4-6; at 6:30, we are taking the Alumni board members to dinner at Olive Garden.
Tomorrow is my anniversary. 29 years. Though I will work all day, I will spend the evening celebrating with my best friend who has my heart forever.
Wednesday I am flying out with my boss and good friend Tami Condon to ASI in Phoenix where we will man a booth together until Sunday when we will fly home. Over the course of that event, we are hosting an Alumni get-together at Old Spaghetti Factory. Here's hoping that it's attended by more than just me.
My life has catapulted into busy.
Sometimes I have to stop and pinch myself. Is this for real? I stand amazed that, first of all, I'm even here, and secondly, how I got here. I feel like I've watched miracles fall like rain around me.
One time, a few months ago, Jacque said to me, "If our eyes were open, we'd see miracles every day."
I was skeptical.
Not anymore.
One of these days I will write it all down, outline the miracles that have happened to get us where we are today. Sometimes, especially in the evenings, I grow frustrated with the fact that we are still living in the midst of boxes. No--really. Our house is very unpacked with the exception of the kitchen which is functional (at best). But then I have to stop myself, and remember that this is only temporary; that the life I envisioned a year ago is just around the bend. And that is enough for me to snap out of it, to find that sense of calm deep inside of myself...
The journey is almost over.
One piece of our miracle story started 44 years ago when a man dropped two little girls, ages 3 and 5, on the doorstep of Roy's parents' home. He was a friend of a friend and he claimed that he and his wife were having marital struggles and they needed someone to just watch their little girls for a couple of days. Would they be willing?
And of course Madeline and Floyd said they would be happy to keep those baby girls and so they swooped them up in their arms and carried them inside, wide eyed and fearful. And then they loved them. They cleaned them up, brushed their hair, took them to town and bought them toys and clothes, and 2 days turned to 2 weeks turned to 2 months and just kept on turning. This was, of course, in the days before computers and Madeline and Floyd had no idea where these little girls came from. All they knew is that they had been deserted and they loved them as their own.
But one day, 18 months later, a police officer knocked on their door and explained how the father of these little girls had kidnapped them from their mom and then fled to Mexico, leaving them abandoned at a home where there was no way for the mom to find them. And so, Gina and Lisa were taken away from Floyd and Madeline and the security and love that these little girls had blossomed in and gave them back to their mom who lived in Dallas. But Floyd and Madeline weren't willing to let them go so easily as these girls had wound their way into their hearts. So from then on, Gina and Lisa were flown down to Port Isabel every summer, every Christmas, every vacation. They were an integral part of the family.
When I first met Roy back in 1987, he introduced me to his sisters, Gina and Lisa--all grown up by this time, of course. Gina and I are about the same age and she has a heart of gold.
When Madeline found out she had cancer, Roy and I immediately flew down to see her. At the same time, Gina and her husband Eric drove down so that Gina could spend time with her during her last days. A few days later, Roy and I flew home. But Gina? She was there until the very end.
When Roy and I found out we were moving to Keene, I called Gina as she lives about half an hour away from Keene to let her know we were moving back. Just as we were hanging up, Gina said, "Does Roy have a job?"
And I explained that he would be subcontracting for Home Depot and Lowe's. She said, "Well, if he's interested in being a highway inspector, let me know. Eric's company is hiring and Eric could at least get him an interview."
And so I sent a resume and a few days after we arrived in Keene, Roy had an interview with Lamb Star.
And now, though Roy doesn't have an official starting date, Roy will be a highway inspector, making more money and and having more benefits than he did after 30 years of teaching. They will even give him a truck and everything that goes with that, as well as other perks.
We have a brand new life.
About a year ago or so, I sat in my living room in North Carolina and I prayed that God would bring us home. It wasn't that life was bad in North Carolina...it was just that I missed my family; I missed home. After 29 years of a boarding school campus, I was ready for normalcy. I craved my own home; I was ready for a change. I had no idea how that would or even could happen...but it was the prayer of my heart and it housed my deepest desire.
And now? Well now I stand amazed.
Now I am watching miracles fall like rain around me.
This afternoon? We are hosting an alumni photo shoot from 4-6; at 6:30, we are taking the Alumni board members to dinner at Olive Garden.
Tomorrow is my anniversary. 29 years. Though I will work all day, I will spend the evening celebrating with my best friend who has my heart forever.
Wednesday I am flying out with my boss and good friend Tami Condon to ASI in Phoenix where we will man a booth together until Sunday when we will fly home. Over the course of that event, we are hosting an Alumni get-together at Old Spaghetti Factory. Here's hoping that it's attended by more than just me.
My life has catapulted into busy.
Sometimes I have to stop and pinch myself. Is this for real? I stand amazed that, first of all, I'm even here, and secondly, how I got here. I feel like I've watched miracles fall like rain around me.
One time, a few months ago, Jacque said to me, "If our eyes were open, we'd see miracles every day."
I was skeptical.
Not anymore.
One of these days I will write it all down, outline the miracles that have happened to get us where we are today. Sometimes, especially in the evenings, I grow frustrated with the fact that we are still living in the midst of boxes. No--really. Our house is very unpacked with the exception of the kitchen which is functional (at best). But then I have to stop myself, and remember that this is only temporary; that the life I envisioned a year ago is just around the bend. And that is enough for me to snap out of it, to find that sense of calm deep inside of myself...
The journey is almost over.
One piece of our miracle story started 44 years ago when a man dropped two little girls, ages 3 and 5, on the doorstep of Roy's parents' home. He was a friend of a friend and he claimed that he and his wife were having marital struggles and they needed someone to just watch their little girls for a couple of days. Would they be willing?
And of course Madeline and Floyd said they would be happy to keep those baby girls and so they swooped them up in their arms and carried them inside, wide eyed and fearful. And then they loved them. They cleaned them up, brushed their hair, took them to town and bought them toys and clothes, and 2 days turned to 2 weeks turned to 2 months and just kept on turning. This was, of course, in the days before computers and Madeline and Floyd had no idea where these little girls came from. All they knew is that they had been deserted and they loved them as their own.
But one day, 18 months later, a police officer knocked on their door and explained how the father of these little girls had kidnapped them from their mom and then fled to Mexico, leaving them abandoned at a home where there was no way for the mom to find them. And so, Gina and Lisa were taken away from Floyd and Madeline and the security and love that these little girls had blossomed in and gave them back to their mom who lived in Dallas. But Floyd and Madeline weren't willing to let them go so easily as these girls had wound their way into their hearts. So from then on, Gina and Lisa were flown down to Port Isabel every summer, every Christmas, every vacation. They were an integral part of the family.
When I first met Roy back in 1987, he introduced me to his sisters, Gina and Lisa--all grown up by this time, of course. Gina and I are about the same age and she has a heart of gold.
When Madeline found out she had cancer, Roy and I immediately flew down to see her. At the same time, Gina and her husband Eric drove down so that Gina could spend time with her during her last days. A few days later, Roy and I flew home. But Gina? She was there until the very end.
When Roy and I found out we were moving to Keene, I called Gina as she lives about half an hour away from Keene to let her know we were moving back. Just as we were hanging up, Gina said, "Does Roy have a job?"
And I explained that he would be subcontracting for Home Depot and Lowe's. She said, "Well, if he's interested in being a highway inspector, let me know. Eric's company is hiring and Eric could at least get him an interview."
And so I sent a resume and a few days after we arrived in Keene, Roy had an interview with Lamb Star.
And now, though Roy doesn't have an official starting date, Roy will be a highway inspector, making more money and and having more benefits than he did after 30 years of teaching. They will even give him a truck and everything that goes with that, as well as other perks.
We have a brand new life.
About a year ago or so, I sat in my living room in North Carolina and I prayed that God would bring us home. It wasn't that life was bad in North Carolina...it was just that I missed my family; I missed home. After 29 years of a boarding school campus, I was ready for normalcy. I craved my own home; I was ready for a change. I had no idea how that would or even could happen...but it was the prayer of my heart and it housed my deepest desire.
And now? Well now I stand amazed.
Now I am watching miracles fall like rain around me.
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Diamonds Everywhere
I read a study recently that said that greatest single indicator of a long life well-lived is deep social connections. Of course, there are...
