Here we go again

We've moving.

There, that's the short version of things. If that's all you want to know, you can stop reading right about ... now.

But if you, dear reader, want the whole story (the long, involved, tear-soaked version), sally forth.
I've chronicled our journey for the past few months here and here and here (and even here, almost a year ago).

To catch you up, Jim resigned from teaching at Zion St. John in April, primarily due to the fact that he wanted to focus on being a teacher, not an administrator/teacher/nurse/coach/driver/janitor. By the time the school year ended in May, he had several interviews with local schools under his belt. We expected one of those would work out, especially since one was at another Lutheran school. 

Long (loooong) story short, neither position materialized. (A side note: When politics enter into hiring decisions in a public school, you kind of expect and accept it. When it happens in a Christian setting, it's deeply disappointing.) 

May came and went. Brielle was born. Then June passed into July with no job offers, just waiting and waiting and waiting. I confess, our home was not precisely a haven this summer. I struggled a lot with anger, with depression, mostly especially with trust. 

Security and stability are as necessary to me as oxygen, so for the past four months, I suffocated in a miasma of fear and indecision. If you think I'm exaggerating, you might try talking to my poor husband, who dealt with the unfortunate combination of postpartum hormones, sleep deprivation and situationally-induced anxiety. 

Last week, a few things transpired that drastically changed our plans. While I need to keep private things private, suffice it to say that it became abundantly clear a path was opening up to enable us to embark on a new adventure. 

As Jim and I discussed things on Wednesday night, a much-need rainstorm was sweeping through the area. Literally the moment I said Let's do it, a gust of wind blew the upstairs window open. A door had closed to us, but a window *literally* was opening. 

Looking back on the events of this spring and summer, I can see now how God's hand was guiding us. Initially, I was dead-set against moving: I had an idea of how things should happen. But as those plans evaporated, even though the circumstances were less than ideal, I started to think about how nice it would be to be closer to our families. 

Gradually, my slow little brain worked its way around to realizing that maybe this is what God intended for us all along.

It's not going to be painless. I dearly love the friends we've made over the past four years. I will be leaving a job that I'm good at and that I enjoy. We'll be leaving our group of theatre friends, and I'll genuinely miss being onstage and helping make decisions for its future.

But. It is a good change. My girls will grow up with their family, instead of seeing them occasionally and briefly.

We'll be living in a house on my grandmother's farm, so we'll see her every day. My sisters both work in Lincoln, so we plan to have Big Bang Theory nights at their apartment this fall. My brother will be a freshman at UNL this fall, so we'll be able to meet up with him for coffee once in a while. My mom and Jim's parents will both be just an hour away, so all three of them will get to do more hands-on grandparenting.

As for jobs, I'm not worried ... can you believe that? Me, not worrying? Jim is planning to substitute teach. I have a few feelers out there for myself, but if it's a slower process, I'll get to stay home with the girls. Win-win.

Our Wisner chapter is coming to an end; it's been such a special time in our lives. Just like a favorite book, I know I'll revisit our Cuming County days in my memory often.

To all the people who prayed unceasingly for us over the past months, it is appreciated more than you can ever know. God is good, and His plans are perfect ... even when we can't see how they possibly can be.