our last move before the big one, from Lake Coeur d’Alene to the Bitterroot Mountains
A and I are now living in the Bitterroot Mountains of Idaho, where we were married. This home of ours has been preceded by a week in Nashville,one day in our hometown, and a month and a half working on Lake Couer d’Alene since we left Chicago.
So it’s been about two and a half months with 3-5 homes, depending on how you’re counting.
We left Chicago because with all my support systems and coping mechanisms taken from me at once, my mental health crashed this year. By March, it was unavoidably clear that time alone was not going to restore my ability to breathe easy.
So we packed up our lives to find air.
Here, there is air. Our horizons are no longer manmade monuments to glorify human greed, but made by God’s own Self, simply because, “it is good.” As a Chicago native once wrote, “You can never have too much sky,” and here, there is so much more of it. The stars shine brighter and more plentiful. And dear friends who have become extentions of my best self are so much closer to remind my just who that is if I need it.
God and I are talking again. I can feel The Spirit’s presence in me every time I am still, even for a moment. We’ve been discussing the Problem of Evil that has been plaguing me all year, and God is drawing me into a tradition of Christianity more ancient and humble than any expression of “American Christianity” I’ve seen.
This is such a strange, limbo period of our lives.
We’re nearing our one-year marriage anniversary, and I find myself even more infatuated than ever. He’s been feeling a little restless in this job – even our job is a limbo, we’re hired as these weird half-breeds, not totally one thing or the go-to for anything – and so he’s started making things with his hands. it has become a pretty reasonable bet that if I need Adam, I can find him in the maintenance building. he’s built three very functional bike racks and a beautiful log stool for us recently. I can’t say I blame him, as I seem to spend every spare minute trying to set up our lives in Nashville or worrying about what I haven’t been able to set up. My discipline of yoga everyday, my spiritual practice, and frequent piano playing are the only things keeping me even a little sane.
People telling me “it’s all gonna work out in the end,” strikes me as trite, and these days I hear it so often directed at me that its all I can do to keep from rolling my eyes outright at whoever is telling me: on good days, I even smile and agree. I know they mean well and truly believe it, and deep down I even believe it. But in this moment, it’s most certainly unhelpful.
A has moved to Nashville already. He starts work as a 6th grade language arts teacher on Tuesday, and we’re so excited. We have an apartment (found only about 8-12 hours before he left), and he has a moped. He even already found a church he likes and is excited for. Things are coming together, and though being 2,000 miles apart isn’t my favorite season, it’s ok. The cook here at camp had a long talk with me today about how God has a purpose for this separation. She had tears in her eyes as she told me that with her 30+ years of marriage, that she was telling me all this because she earnestly wants that longevity for us.
We are loved here. I join A in 18 days. And I have hope that we will find beloved community in our next home.
blog journal style of post inspired by http://fireandjoy.com. check her out for beautiful things.