Two of our moves were halfway across the country, to cities in which we knew no one. One of these cities I had never even visited before we were apartment hunting. Starting from scratch. Clean slate. New beginning. Those were hard moves. Moves that took years to let the dust settle and begin to feel like home.
When we got to Seattle, we stopped looking forward and started looking around. We were home. Forever home. No more moves, no more having to build new community, no more learning my way around a new place. We planted our family tree right here and watered it and begin to watch the roots grow down and the branches grow up. The rich soil nurtured our tree and, in a few years time, we found ourselves with some amazing friends and a love of this emerald city.
Since we had reached what we hope to be our final destination, I naively assumed that everyone else here had too. Not sure why I did that. I secretly hoped that my small group of 6 girls would be the same small group for the next 30 years. That so much time and history and shared experience would knit our families together in ways I can't even imagine. I'm a dreamer. I know.
This group has been life blood to me. Family standing in. They have rallied around me in good times and bad, supported me through miscarriage, births, sickness, and the utter craziness that sometimes feels like my life. They are the women that have kept my kids and cleaned my house, brought meals and chocolate, written endless words of encouragement, celebrated good things, shared uncountable glasses of wine and commiserated over messy houses and messy hearts.
They are women who hem me in and call me out. We say hard things. We have each other's backs. We build each other up. We laugh, a lot. We send hail Mary texts to ask for help and rally around one another. We send pictures of our massive laundry piles and dirty kitchens and utter nonsense to brighten each other's days. This stay-at-home mom business can be lonely work, so we say, "Hey, you're not alone," in a million different ways.
Quickly and mostly unexpectedly, two members of our group are moving. These are good moves for them and for their families...exciting adventures that will lead to a new life somewhere else. I'm happy for them and looking forward to see what God has in store for them. These are powerhouse women, who live on the front lines of life and impact everyone around them for the better. These new cities are getting ready to get their socks blessed right off.
But I'm also reeling a bit today and sad. These girls are family to me, and it feels like my family and support system is breaking up. For the first time, I'm not the one looking forward and anticipating a new start. I'm the one watching someone else move on, and that feels strange and unsettling. I'm restless and want my own transition, so I don't have to go through the hard work that is staying put and plowing through. I'm going to miss these girls so much, and though I know it's what's best and we will still be in contact, it feels like a huge loss in my daily life.
For a person who's moved so many times, I don't like change. When I find a mascara or a pen that I like, I buy the same one over and over again, and it makes me so upset when they discontinue it. I get rattled when I update the software on my phone or computer and things work differently. Reality, though, is that the only constant in life is change. And in order to thrive, I have to accept each day and each person as a gift. I have to live in the present and be thankful for that moment, instead of assuming that it will always be there or even that it will be better in the future. So many moments to be thankful for with these women.
Mah girls, I love you. It's been an amazing ride. You will be missed more than you can fathom. I'll be cheering you on from here.
