It’s been ten months since we moved from Las Vegas, but it still feels like we’re in transition. I’m over at The Mudroom today talking about being in the middle of the wilderness:
“We’re in our mid-thirties with two kids. We’re living with parents while others our age are buying homes and storing away for retirement 30 years down the road or less. We left a home, mild traffic (this is something when Southern California traffic can be hell on earth), and good insurance. We moved back home with the excitement of God doing new things in our lives and a willingness to follow Him wherever He leads us. But the novelty of change soon became dull, and we entered into the long in-between.”
I started a couple dozen posts about ending our 7 years in Las Vegas and entering into this new season back in California. Phrases and sentences were jotted down, but the words fell short of the enormity of my feelings. I stayed silent, grieved, cried a million tears, and barely wrote a thing while we transitioned.
But now we’re here, and I was finally able to match the words to my feelings in this post I wrote for The Mudroom.
Coming home usually fosters feelings of comfort, peace, ease, but instead a stifling pressure rises in my chest. What am I doing here? Why did we move back? Like a wild horse being bridled, I’m frantic inside. Everything in me wants to run away till my lungs hurt and the tears fall freely…
Over at the Spoken For shop, we’re talking about courage and accepting God’s call in the book of Isaiah this month, and today I’m sharing how courage can take time.
I dismissed what He said to me because I refused believe it was true. I couldn’t comprehend how He saw something in me I didn’t see myself. I wasted time, I procrastinated, I stayed stubborn. But He is as persistent as He is loving, so He kept telling me the same thing.