“Not much. What’s up with you?”
That’s a phrase you almost never hear me say these days. We
are imminently moving to Portland, Oregon. Gerry reports to work at the Intel
Custom Foundry on October 29.
Our prayer for most of the summer followed the theme, “God,
please keep our family together.” We knew in July that we would be moving
sometime before 2013, but didn’t know when exactly. When asked when we were
moving, my answer was typically, “When our house sells or December, whichever
comes first.” God had already prepared me to know that I am not a very good
single parent. Gerry spent 6 months in Portland while the rest of us stayed in
Albuquerque in the winter of 2009/2010 and I can definitively say that it was
one of the hardest 6 months of my life. Then I spent most of this summer alone
with the kids as well. I knew it was something I couldn’t do again for long. So
we needed to stay together. We need each other.
Fast forward to now. Gerry has actually already started his
new job, but is working remotely from here. He was originally slated to move in
early October. So a few weeks ago we flew to Portland for a brief house-hunting
excursion. When my plane landed, I had a text stating we had an offer on the
house here in Corrales. Therefore we felt pretty comfortable making an offer on
a house in Portland, near Grant Park. It’s a very sweet English cottage, in the
heart of NE Portland. One week later, the deal on our New Mexico house fell
through. So it is back on the market.
We’re going through with the house purchase in Portland even
though we haven’t sold our current one.
There is no good reason not to move to this new house. And God answered
our prayer. We are staying together through the move. He didn’t answer the
prayer as I intended, but I’m OK with that. Or, I’m trying to be.
The house here isn’t showing very much. When it first went
on the market, it showed a dozen times in a few weeks. It’s shown twice since it
went back on the market. I’ll be the first to acknowledge that it’s going to
take a unique person to want this home. But at least people were looking at it
in early September. Honestly, I’m having a really hard time accepting that it
might not sell before we leave. Consequently, I’m 6-sigma outside my confidence
interval financially. The thought of 2 mortgages is giving me anxiety dreams.
Plus, managing how to keep the house clean and in good condition while we’re in
Portland is a hurdle I simply do not want to jump. Not to mention that until then I'm trying to
keep it clean and showable with 3 kids, regular life to live, and closets to
declutter.
But I keep coming back to that answered prayer. I fully
trust that God’s plan is much better than mine. And I’m trying to not want the
neon sign indicating his plan. Most of the time I wish God wasn’t trying to
grow my tolerance of ambiguity or patience. On the other hand, if I’m really
honest with myself, I know that if he gave me the plan, I’d just kick him out
of the driver’s seat. That’s love, right there. I’m not to be trusted and he
knows it. I’ve turned into David and my life is a psalm.
And then there are 3 kids who are in the midst of all this
chaos. None of this is easy for Gerry and me, but it’s possibly worse for them.
At least Gerry and I have a semblance that all this will be just fine. We love
Portland and know the kids will too. Plus, Karl remembers going to Kindergarten
at Laurelhurst, making friends, playing t-ball in Grant Park, and loving it.
But Lindsay and Billy do not have those memories. All they see is a big black
box of unknowns. Unknown school, unknown friends, unknown new house, unknown
security. And on this side of the move, all they all have is good-byes.
Good-bye Corrales, good-bye Shepherd of the Valley, good-bye friends, good-bye
giant yard, good-bye trampoline, good-bye zoo and Explora and aquarium and
Sweet Tomatoes. Good-bye security. Neither of our younger kids transition well,
especially when letting go – understatement of the year – and so the emotional
unraveling has officially begun.
The movers start coming October 15. That’s 2 weeks from
tomorrow. The kids’ last day of school
is October 19. To state the obvious, that’s much sooner than I anticipated. We’ve
had several offers for farewell events, but just cannot accept them. We have
too much to do and frankly, it would not be in the best interest of our kids
right now. We have to be in the business of calm routine. So I’m afraid I will
not get to say good-bye to everyone I love in New Mexico. I know it is
inconsiderate, and I feel terrible about it. But I can’t figure out a way to
make it happen.
I am confident that this move to Portland is God’s plan for
our family. We needed to move for several reasons. Gerry needed new job
opportunities. We need better healthcare alternatives for our kids. Our kids
need to grow up with lots of kids who look like them. We get to be within driving distance of family
for the first time, ever. I am so excited for a new adventure. But I am in
mourning about leaving New Mexico. I’ve been here over 15 years. I have roots
and community and family-away-from-family here. Our kids were born here. I’m
living in my dream house. Minute by minute I fluctuate between tears and
excited planning.
My new prayer is plain and simple. Please, God, sell my
home. He’s done so much for me already. Why stop here?
