A couple nights ago, my kids and I went out to dinner with good friends to celebrate their son, Brandon’s birthday. Brandon is my godson. His mom, Jen is my best friend. I’ve known her since our freshman year in high school when I’d get in trouble for making her laugh in class. Jen’s husband, Chris was her high school sweetheart so I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known Jen. We’ve gone camping with Jen, Chris, and their four kids more times than should be allowed by law. We’ve broken bread and shared bottles of wine together a zillion times over the years. And we’ve enjoyed more laughs than I could ever begin to count. Our children have grown up together and my kids call their kids cousins.
As I sat there at our little table for thirteen, I talked about my upcoming move, the latest insanity of my ex, and how kids shouldn’t put broken zippers, that were found on the floor, in their mouths. (Yes, that last one was courtesy of Clayton.) But all the while I was thinking, I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss watching the kids interact. I’m going to miss laughing until I wet my pants. (Hey, I’ve had six kids. It happens!) I love these friends as if they were family. How do you leave the people you love without breaking down?
In the light of day, I’m happy and excited about the move. Things have fallen into place so well that it just seems meant to be. I feel confident that this is the best thing I can do for my family. There are so many advantages to it, and it’ll be a fresh start for all of us. It’s a good thing.
But come nightfall, I lie in bed, my mind racing with thoughts of how much I’ll miss my friends, how much my kids will miss their friends, and how long it’s going to take me to unload the moving van! I second-guess myself even though I know I’m making the right decisions. I worry that I’ll never make new friends, that I’ll stink at a regular job, and ohmygosh, what if one of my kids throws up?! I won’t have any friends to clean it up and I’ll have to close the door to the barf-room and never set foot in there again. And if it happens in the kitchen, I’ll have to order take-out for the rest of my life. Wait, that’s not really a drawback. Hmmm, still, I worry about stuff.
Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t keep me up all night. Soon after the “what ifs” start, I get a calm, soothing “It’s going to be okay” feeling. There’s something freeing in letting go. If things work out, my house sells quickly, and I find a new place in Florida, then great! If it doesn’t work out that way, then it wasn’t meant to be and something new will come along. I do believe God has a plan and it may not be the same as my plan. (I often try to tell Him how He should do things my way, but it never works.) So, I’m relaxing (mostly) in my knowledge that things will work out as things always do. But if you know anyone in the Orlando area who is capable of cleaning up puke without vomiting herself, send her my way! Oh yeah, and if all my friends could move to Florida with me so I don’t miss them, that would be great!
As I sat there at our little table for thirteen, I talked about my upcoming move, the latest insanity of my ex, and how kids shouldn’t put broken zippers, that were found on the floor, in their mouths. (Yes, that last one was courtesy of Clayton.) But all the while I was thinking, I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss watching the kids interact. I’m going to miss laughing until I wet my pants. (Hey, I’ve had six kids. It happens!) I love these friends as if they were family. How do you leave the people you love without breaking down?
In the light of day, I’m happy and excited about the move. Things have fallen into place so well that it just seems meant to be. I feel confident that this is the best thing I can do for my family. There are so many advantages to it, and it’ll be a fresh start for all of us. It’s a good thing.
But come nightfall, I lie in bed, my mind racing with thoughts of how much I’ll miss my friends, how much my kids will miss their friends, and how long it’s going to take me to unload the moving van! I second-guess myself even though I know I’m making the right decisions. I worry that I’ll never make new friends, that I’ll stink at a regular job, and ohmygosh, what if one of my kids throws up?! I won’t have any friends to clean it up and I’ll have to close the door to the barf-room and never set foot in there again. And if it happens in the kitchen, I’ll have to order take-out for the rest of my life. Wait, that’s not really a drawback. Hmmm, still, I worry about stuff.
Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t keep me up all night. Soon after the “what ifs” start, I get a calm, soothing “It’s going to be okay” feeling. There’s something freeing in letting go. If things work out, my house sells quickly, and I find a new place in Florida, then great! If it doesn’t work out that way, then it wasn’t meant to be and something new will come along. I do believe God has a plan and it may not be the same as my plan. (I often try to tell Him how He should do things my way, but it never works.) So, I’m relaxing (mostly) in my knowledge that things will work out as things always do. But if you know anyone in the Orlando area who is capable of cleaning up puke without vomiting herself, send her my way! Oh yeah, and if all my friends could move to Florida with me so I don’t miss them, that would be great!
1 comment:
Eric should relocate!!! I am sure there are fires in FL too!!!
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