I keep thinking of all the things to write, and then when there is a window to sit still and place fingers to keys - nothing.
The thought blob grows and grows and I don’t even know what chunk to start with. It’s like trying to start a new project, a new diet, a new workout plan, a new hobby, or a new habit. It feels like trying to play an instrument after not touching if for too many years. It is squeaky and choppy. But, I really don’t want to let another moment slip by — another opportunity, so here is my squeaky and choppy beginning…
We are moving. After seven years in Tallahassee, our path clearly and surprisingly changed direction. We love adventure. We’ve always had crazy ideas and gone with them and they’ve all been wonderful, but this feels very different. Good? I’m going to say yes, even though it doesn’t always feel good right now. As we’ve grown a family and a farm and a cherished community, and completely rebuilt an old farm house that is simply a sweet place to be, my bravery and desire to make changes has dwindled significantly.
Recently, we went on a hiking trip. While we were hiking, Hannah lost her sweet stuffed sheep and friend. She cried and cried and mourned the loss. She was convinced we could go back for it. She was sure someone could just find it and mail it to us. The truth was, we couldn’t go back for it — it was miles away, and there was no way to announce to all hikers to be on the lookout for a tiny stuffed sheep. My mama heart wanted to run back down the path and retrieve sheepy, but I knew that wasn’t in the best interest of our large group. I wanted to make a sign out of something, anything, “MISSING SHEEP! Here is our address! Please send back!” But, that was not possible either.
So we talked about sheepy and were sad with her. Before long, she was fine and enjoying our hike. And, the next time we went hiking, she brought her stuffed dog, Violet, along. This time, we made a leash and attached it to my pack and worked as a team to make sure Violet stayed with us.
I feel like I’ve lost my sheepy. I want to go back for it. I want to make signs that say, HELP! LOST! I want to go running back for sheepy. Right now I am doing a lot of trail sitting wishing I could have my sheepy back. Moving forward freezes me, moving back is not an option. I have a wonderful support crew offering tons of encouragement and also being sad with me. The limbo is harder than I ever imagined, but I know that our new experiences will add to our incredible adventurous journey.
George has a wonderful job at Young Harris in North Georgia. It is humbling to admit we have been slow to formulate a plan. But cows and chickens and tractors and children and family and time fill that flow full of lumps and bumps and challenges the keep us from being so fluid. (Yet, even since I wrote most of these words, so much has fallen into place and I my bravery is returning!)
In the meantime, George has an incredible gift for making the most of every minute no matter what. He has created wild and wonderful projects for our children and for our family. We still lack a single dull moment. His never ending strength and compassion and courage are carrying my frozen self along. He is helping me thaw out in July.