Home Again

The Moore household is crazy right now.  Our almost three year old is acting her age, despite my efforts to thwart it.  She doesn't get the concept of "emotional stability," and to be honest, lately, neither do I.  We moved across the country and have been in Durham for only over 6 months now, and guess what we are in the process of doing now - figuring out where to move again.  Only this time it's not for one year, or even four...it's a long term, commitment.  That, to me, seems very daunting, yet exciting.  I come from a family who has lived in the same city their entire lives.  My parents went to college in Evansville, and have only ventured out to vacation (and even that is the same place every year.)   Living in one place, to me, equates to stability, lifelong friendships, and the life I always imagined.  I want that, but at the same time, the cities we are considering are cities we have never lived in or even fully visited, so how am I to know we'll find what we want?  

Enter: emotional crisis (that's me.)
Also enter: exposing my lack of trust

Moving to Seattle was hard for me.  I pretended to be excited, pretended to myself and others, but it scared me to pieces.  (I'm not overly adventurous, I cried daily at camp Ondessonk, forgoodnesssake, and that only lasted a week.)  At the time, the city was equivalent to another country.  The culture, the climate, and the personality differed drastically from Indiana.  Danny (the adventuresome introvert) remembers that first year as amazing, exciting, and perfect.  To me, that first year will always be remembered as a little hazy, sometimes exciting, and pretty unfamiliar and lonely.  The culture there initially shocked me to my core, and then I noticed God using it to refine me.  Danny and I needed it, it brought us closer and solidified our marriage.  (Extra perk: it helped me find my inner lost hippy that had been hiding since age 12.)  After three years there, I finally felt at home.  One would think this would give me the confidence to move again, but as much as it changed me, it exhausted me as well.  Am I up for that again? 

This is where my lack of trust comes in.  I know God is sovereign, I believe He is fully sovereign, and I cannot thwart his plans for me, but I don't fear whether or not we'll end up in the "right" place, I fear how hard that path will be.  He looks at His work and says "It is good," but He never says "It looks shiny and perfect" or "It is easy," and my human nature wants that.  It wants shiny, easy, happy, and tearless.  I was praying(/crying) about this, when He asked me, "but where in there do you need to trust me?"  He made it pretty clear that if everything was easy, I wouldn't need to trust, I wouldn't be refined, and I wouldn't draw close to Him.  

Does this mean we need to always choose the hard route?  Be self deprecating?  Be constant martyrs?  No, but it does mean we need to trust Him.  To me, that looks like one step at a time, allowing myself tears, allowing myself honesty, and allowing myself to listen and trust.  Like Ruthie learning to put her shoes on herself, we'll eventually get there.  In my sinful nature, I just may throw a fit or two and throw my "shoes" across the room, myself on the floor, and forget to ask for help, and then forget to listen (not that I see that happening in my house very often...or every 10 minutes.)
Here is what I do know, I'll have my husband and little girl by my side wherever we end up, and I'm okay with that.