Penning this on a small yellow legal pad because it’s just too beautiful to be on a computer or inside. It’s Sunday, a true Sunday. No task list, the children’s cheeks are rosy from sweaty splashing in the plastic pools. Nicholas and I are finding ourselves again commenting to each other,
“This is amazing.”
“I love it here so much.”
“Can you believe this is our yard? These are our children?”
“Welcome home, babe.”
“Thank you, God.”
There is something about a slow day that makes the space to reflect.
A year ago everything was uncertain. Like so many, we were facing unemployment. We also knew it was time to move on from living near the Twin Cities, the cold North. We didn’t know quite where to turn, where our home would be. And home means so much to us.
Two girlie girls and a five month-old little guy in our care, the readiness was just as thick as the iced-over lakes to make this next move the one where we could finally plant roots. We were weary.
Yet nothing was in our control. Okay, we were in control of our dreaming, of our praying, of our discerning. We did possess our firm resolve for change. We could control how we would choose to trust. The Surrender Prayer was big: “Oh Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything.”
A string of events later, I’m watching two wooden swings swaying underneath a mature maple, a soft backdrop of blue mountains.
How entirely meant to be, this place. For us.
Here is the short version of the complete miracle of this moment:
The end of 2019…
Again, we knew we needed to leave Minnesota. There was no peace. A well-loved, but too-small apartment for a growing family, winter lasting so much of the year, the persistent experience of isolation. But where to? Our extended family is spread all over the country, so no clear answer there. We were able to narrow criteria down to: near some family, ability to be outside where we are our happiest, an supportive community in which we could live our faith, and a Catholic Montesssori education.
Being sure of the last one surprised us, but it was quite helpful, actually. After spending four years immersed in Catholic Montessori, we were completely sold. Imagining not being able to give that opportunity to our children if we relocated someplace where it was nonexistent, gave us immense unrest. So I started googling Catholic Montessori schools and making a list. It was a tiny list. Out of maybe a dozen possibilities, there were four in Virginia. The thought of returning to the state where we met, dated, married, and welcomed our first baby, made me so happy. It was our beginning, our planting. Some best friends were in driving distance and some family would be much closer too.
Early 2020
Nicholas notified his employer we would most likely move at the end of the summer when our lease was up. Being a small organization, his absence would leave a large gap and the thought was that some heads up would be considerate. They responded, though, by just letting him go. It was a bit of a shock as we still had several months before we could leave our current living arrangement, and it was too short of a time to start and then quit local employment that would provide for a family of five.
Jesus, please take care of everything.
Pressing on I booked a flight with the baby to Virginia, stayed with those two dear friends and went to visit two of those Montessori schools. I got to take a long look around the cute mountain town they are in and felt much joy about one of the schools in particular. It was a sort of homeschool-hybrid setup on an old farm. The classrooms were beautiful and the children moved about freely and purposefully. I was starting to envision family life there and it was exciting.
Spring 2020
Job searching. Nicholas convinced his former employer to let him work a bit longer to buy some time. That happened for only a brief bit as covid-19 soon hit and they let him go again. Several weeks of Nicholas working from home while I homeschooled, frozen inside a small-and-feeling-smaller-apartment. More job searching and applying and networking. We were aiming searches especially for anything near that Virginia mountain town, but also needed to cast larger nets as most companies were freezing hiring because of the pandemic. It’s not even easy in “normal” circumstances to find a suitable job in rural country. Finding out we were ineligible for unemployment was also quite jolting.
What a season of turbulence. Physically feeling the lurches our stomachs, trying to just breathe and trust the Pilot.
Nearing Summer 2020
On Nicholas’ first “official” day unemployed, I planned a morning trip for us to the Arboretum, our outdoor refuge. Coronavirus cautions in full force now, one needed to make reservations to be admitted to the three-mile drive. As we approached the entrance, I pulled out my phone to find the electronic tickets in my email. I saw a new email with the subject, “John XXIII opportunity, phone call.” Quickly scanning the message, I audibly caught my breath. It was the school, the school in the cute mountain town, we wanted to send our children to. They were considering finding a new head of school and wondered if Nicholas would be interested in speaking about the position. They knew his history as a Catholic Montessori principal, remembered my visit and our hopes to move there one day. I read the email aloud to him and he exhaled. Shoulders relaxed down a few inches… could this be real?
At this point we already had set plans to move to Virginia. Our lease was up in a few weeks and we had to go somewhere. A moving pod was ordered, boxes were being packed and a friend in Richmond offered their basement apartment as a landing pad. We’d go there and Nicholas would just start knocking on doors to find a job. Several phone calls and rounds of zoom interviews, however, resulted in an offer from our “dream school” for Nicholas to become their new director. Catholic Montessori. Outdoor beauty. Mild seasons. Strong diocese. Driving distance to close friends. Jesus, you take care of everything!
The rest of 2020
A whirlwind move to the rented schoolhouse. Starting a new job, getting to know a new community and their needs. Camping out with small children going through an overwhelming adjustment. A crawler kiddie in the least-baby-friendly environment. Looking to buy a first home in a pressure-cooker market. Offers put in, being out bid. Offers accepted, horrendous inspections. Finally, a place in town with a mountain view… not necessarily “the dream home,” but God opened its door, and we know that what lies behind His open doors are far better than anything behind the ones we try to force open. She is a 1945 cape cod cottage, near the Shenandoah River. White brick exterior, wood floors and original glam door knobs. Lots of funky-colored walls and needed repairs, but as they like to say nowadays, the bones are good. The owners before had two huge canines that left behind layers of dog gunk and hair, but also a mostly-fenced in yard perfect for our child-puppies. You can see different ranges of the Blue Ridge mountains depending on which porch or grassy sit-spot you find yourself. After a few months of intense cleaning, a terrible bout of covid-19, and a really hard onset of postpartum depression/ anxiety, we had ourselves a livable home in time for setting up the Christmas tree.
2021 so far…
A new sweet baby growing within. We have a little girl coming at the end of the summer. I just completed a time-intensive design project. I’m entirely exhausted but have hung in there. All the responsibilities at work and home have been at moments very overwhelming for Nicholas, but he too has hung in there. Our eldest is still really struggling emotionally from the cross-country move. The pudgy crawler is now a lanky sprinter. The middle girlie is evolving from a toddler to little girl.
The stability of a home, the luxury of a yard to explore, is making a difference.
We are now two weeks away from the end of the school year, and the days seem to be slowing. Thank you, God, for the warmth and length of these days. We welcome them and ask you to steady us in their sameness.
Around now
The last few years have shown me that I can make all the goals and deadlines in the world for this space here, but life just happens. The ideas are always bubbling, and the desire to connect with and serve you is ever fierce. I will need to keep accepting the limitations of the various seasons or life events, and step faithfully into the spaces to create as they come, or as I am realistically able to carve them out. My sister shared with me once that she read somewhere that some artists just work in bursts. They are creatives whose lives consist of more dormant times and then energetic springtimes. I’m thinking I’m probably one of them.
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