4-3-2-1 (Prov 3:5-6)

A little more than 10 weeks ago I decided to move across the country. This is the 4th entry in a somewhat belated journal about my adventure.

As I mentioned, last time, in order to make such a big move, there were a few important things I needed to figure out. 1)      I’d need a job. 2)      I’d need a home. 3)      I’d need to figure out how to get my stuff to my new home.

Option 1: Get rid of all my stuff and start over.
This option was attractive for its elegant simplicity. No fuss, no muss. Sometime, I just might write about the three times I've done exactly that. Stuff, after all, is just stuff. So I took inventory: one well-loved couch & armchair. A beautiful bedroom set that I love. Books. Some shelves - both homemade and put-together-from-boxes (not nearly enough for the books, though).  Lovely things, but it's not like I they were antiques or heirlooms. I didn't even have a kitchen table or dishes. My treasures have always been my relationships.

---And, it turns out, the mementos of those relationships. When I sat down to inventory my life, I found just a few things I couldn't part with (or digitize).

My hope chest (custom made for me by the men in my family).

My scrapbooks (and scrapbooks in progress). Together these hold my most cherished memories.

My journal-boxes (which fill the hope chest). Journals, creative writing, playbills, graduation announcements, and other assorted mementos (and special jewelry) representing milestones in my life and the lives of those I love.

If these things were taken from me by a fire or flood, I would have to deal with it. But I could never choose to get rid of them. And since they wouldn't fit in my car anyway, selling the rest of the stuff would be foolish.

Option 2: Drive a moving van myself.
This is, after all, how my family usually moves. Rent the big white truck. Load it. Drive it. Unload it.
Unload it.
That might be a problem. See, on the loading end, I was pretty sure I could arrange for help. Since I knew no one in VA, unloading would be all me. Imagine, please, me, myself, and I moving a long horizontal dresser. Or a hope chest. Or a couch. All alone.
Yea. Not really an option.


Option 3: Hire movers
This was stressful, because it was the unknown option. I don't do well with unknowns. It was a little more expensive than renting a moving van (but not really, if I had to hire muscle to help at my destination).

I did my research, and I found out that really there's not much a customer can do beyond choosing a reputable moving company. Other than that, it's all out of your hands. Which is, after all, the point.

So, I decided to hire movers.
I got estimates.
I arranged dates.
I gave notice to my landlord.
My roommate and I started packing.







You may have noticed that I skipped #2: find a home. Um...yea. Initially, I thought I could find a place with a short term lease by doing my research online. In the 21st century, it should be easy enough to use search engines and satelite maps to start looking for apartments. Once I had a job and a zipcode, I was sure I could at least get some ideas, find safety data for neighborhoods, read reviews. With any luck I could call some managers and be pretty set before I arrived.

So I started to do all that. I made lists, and found links. Then I took a break and helped my roommate in WA find her a new place. She began her search exactly as I planned to begin mine - online. Together we went to check out some of her prospects in this city we'd lived in for 13 years.

Have you seen that commercial for ... actually, I don't even know what it's for. It ends with the "French model." Here's a link to a shortened youtube clip.  Yea.

My point is this: the internet is good for many things, but for me, at any rate, finding a new home long-distance is not one of them. We were suckered into looking at some pretty awful places in a city we knew really well. (She did find a cute place, by the way). I found myself imagining all the horrors I might get myself into if I tried to follow through on my plan. So, I gave up the internet search, and once again, found myself praying that the Lord would provide. Knowing that could mean anything. Confident I would be taken care of.

I packed up (with the help of MANY fabulous friends).
The movers came.
I turned in my keys.
And stepped out in faith.

I arrived in my new town on a Thursday morning, with no clue where I was going to live.
Friday evening I had a landlord.
Sunday I had a lease.
Monday I moved in.

My (front) door. Welcome.

The house. I have the basement.

The "across the street" neighbors.

I don't know you, but I call that a miracle.

Do you want to know the very best part?
The new apartment came with a kitchen table. And bookcases. My very own golden fleece, right there in my empty new apartment. (Not sure what I'm talking about? Check out Gideon's story in the Bible). I hadn't even asked for reassurance, but God provided it for me anyway.

Because He knows my heart, and knows that I tend to worry, doubt, and second-guess.
But, as I sit at my table and type, I'm learning to trust. How could I not?

Just over 10 weeks ago I decided to completely rearrange my life. With little savings, in a bad economy, I decided to move across the country to a state where I didn't know a single person, for no better reason than that I wanted to. Anyone with any sense will tell you that this should NEVER have worked out. Yet, it did. It did.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make straight your paths. -Proverbs 3:5-6

8-7-6-5 (Mk 10:27)

10 weeks ago I decided to move across the country. This is the 3^rd entry in a somewhat belated journal about my adventure.

Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.” - Mark 10:27

In order to make such a big move, there were a few important things I needed to figure out.

1)      I’d need a job. Probably teaching, since I’m still paying off the student loans.

2)      I’d need a home.

3)      I’d need to figure out how to get my stuff to my new home.

(Nope. Didn't create this one either. Sometimes I love Google. Sometimes I hate it)

Plus I needed to finish the 2011/2012 school year. If you didn’t realize it, the last month of school is a terrifically busy time for teachers. There’s the last push to finish covering material. Projects to wrap up. Reviews. Tests. And GRADES. Not to mention all the “end of year” fluff that makes it memorable for the students and their families – field days, field trips, yearbooks, assemblies, awards and showcases. Oh, and the behind-the-scenes stuff – staff meetings, ranking lists, transition notes for next year’s teachers, debriefing curriculum maps, and planning necessary changes for next year.

So, I had to prioritize. Since I don’t like commuting, I decided to tackle finding a job first.

Goal:  any teaching or other position in 3^rd – 8^th grade for which I am qualified.  In a VA district within a 4 hour drive of Raleigh. Not more than 2 hours from ocean access.

Strategy : Apply everywhere. Pray for the right doors to open.

Turns out that everywhere within my boundaries includes more than 35 school divisions (districts). Most with their own online application portal. After eliminating a few that were too rural, or listed a pay rate far lower than my current salary, I still had 25 reasonable candidates.

Prayerfully I began filling out packets and answering questions.

Lord, please lead me to a job. Help my application stand out from the crowd. Surely, there’s got to be some district that needs a teacher with my skills. Please, open a door. I just need one reasonable offer. 

As I filled out applications, more questions came up.

It was clear that VA has an openness to out of state candidates. There appeared to be openings, but were districts truly hiring outside candidates? A lot of districts in the Puget Sound area had posted openings that were filled by internal candidates, or teachers who had been RIF’d (laid off) due to continuing budget problems. What if all the openings I was seeing were the same type of phantom openings? Would I be able to get a job from out of state? Could I perhaps do some preliminary phone interviews, then arrange to fly out for a week early in the summer and do a bunch of in person interviews all at once?

If I couldn’t find a full-time teaching position, what else could I do? Could I get work in a district office, doing something clerical? Or working with the assessment folks? I knew I could probably sub, but would that pay the bills? No matter what, I was taking a pay cut moving to VA. And I would have to pay state taxes. And I didn’t have a roommate any more. Could I afford part-time work? How long would it be before I was working daycare again? Waiting tables?

A hundred questions. A hundred uncertainties. A hundred reasons to change my mind.

(Another image I did not create. I really need to get more creative.)

Funny, though, I never once considered NOT going.  

I was acting on my new understanding of God the Provider. I was trusting in my assurance that this was “okay” with my Heavenly Father, and that He would be with me, come what may.  

• 10 weeks ago, I decided to move across country.
• 9 weeks ago, I turned in the first of many job application packets.
• 8 weeks ago, I got my first interview, over the phone. The possibility that I could get a job from a phone (or Skype?) interview hadn’t really occurred to me before. I was excited. That would save me the costs of a trip. I began to pray for just such an opportunity.
• 7 weeks ago, I sent my 7^th group of students off for their summer vacation. I decided to allow myself two more weeks to focus on the job hunt, then I’d have to work on the other details.
• 6 weeks ago, I finished submitting the 25^th and final packet. I had never heard back from that first interview. I faced the possibility that I might be moving without a job. I prayed for wisdom. I prayed for confidence.
• 5 weeks ago, I had my second phone interview. On Tuesday. OnThursday, I had a job.

From a phone interview.

Because with God, truly, all things are possible.

10-9-8 (Jn 10:10)

So... 10 weeks ago (June 4th, about 3 am) I decided to move (if you didn't read part one of this move-journal "what's in your heart," you might want to do that now). I decided to take a walk with God-the-provider, and see what happened.

Now, don't get me wrong. I understand that there are many levels of provision. I recognized that I could very well find myself on bread and water for the next 40 years. While that would be quite a change from the salmon and steak I've become accustomed to, I wasn't worried.

I was excited. Like a kid at Christmas. Tingly, giggly, cannot sleep excited.
So I quit trying to sleep and started lining up ducks.


First - decide where, exactly, to go.
Closer to family, which was part of the "why," meant the East Coast. There's a lot of choices there. Just to prove I can summarize a little, I won't go through the whole process of elimination with you. After all, it took less than 5 minutes in my head, it seems only fair to keep it short for you. In the end, I decided on NC, SC, or VA.

In Bible times, this would be where they sent out a scouting party. Joshua checking out Jericho. Me, I've got the internet. By dawn I knew the licensing requirements for teachers in all three states. NC was out, on the grounds that they would make me take expensive qualifying tests. I'm a great test-taker, but a horrible saver, plus, taking qualifying tests to do a job I was already doing didn't sit well with me. SC didn't require the tests, but did warn that they might be requested at a later time. VA wanted 3+ years of teaching experience, no expensive tests required. I had a winner.

And it "felt" right.

My sis was a little dissappointed that I ruled out NC so early. I never really reconsidered. I did try to seriously consider SC, but it was farther from my parents and brother's family. I also just felt more peaceful about VA. I like to believe it was a little Holy Spirit soothing.


I'm not saying God called me to VA. Maybe He did, and time will tell. But I am saying that he approved of my desire to go there.

Parents, you know what I mean. Junior asks if he borrow the car to go see the newest alien invaders movie with his friends. You might wish he'd stay home, enjoy any of the hundreds of DVD's you already have, and save his money. Or go to the park. Or go visit grandma, who misses him. Or clean his room. Or at least wait until the movie comes to the cheap theater.  But you can see the desire of his heart is to have this adventure with his friends, at this time. So you say, "okay," and you give him the keys. Gladly. Because you trust him, and his friends, and you know he'll make wise choices.

As I pondered this move, more verses came to mind, assuring me that God was in this, God was OK with this. God created me with a desire for adventure. Jesus came that I might live life abundantly. For too long I had been living as a slave to imagined "shoulds." I should settle down. I should be content with a life that many would consider a complete success. I should NOT take risks in this economy. I have a job, I should just stick it out. I should NOT leave my friends. I should be happy.

I had subconsciously turned my great God (partly) into a cosmic King Midas. You remember him, don't you? In his desire to make everything in his kingdom perfect, Midas stifled his own beloved daughter - nearly killed her. I knew God loved me, but I felt chained by beauty and love and friendship and security and comfort. Golden chains, it turns out, are still chains.

As I considered my options, I remembered a few more kingdom principles. Family is important. God created the whole planet, and there is more beauty in it than just Puget's Sound (though it's hard to imagine anything topping that view). God got me the job I had in University Place, He could surely get me another. True friendships can survive time and distance.

Most importantly, God is not King Midas.

So by 6 am I had called my sister and told her the news.
By 8am I had told my boss.
Just two weeks after having re-decorated my classroom to be better organized for next school year, I was telling my boss that I wouldn't be back after all.

And so I began filling out paperwork to get my credentials in VA. I began applying online for jobs. I began trusting that somehow it would all work out.

I began my adventure. And I felt alive!

The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy;
I have come that they might have life, and have it to the full. - John 10:10

What's in your heart? (PS 37:4)

Take delight in the Lord,and he will give you the desires of your heart. 

(I did not make this picture. I haven't been to a sunny, sandy beach this year. Yet?)

Oh my goodness! If I didn't know this was true before this journey, I would certainly be convinced now.
I'd like to spend the next few days sharing a snapshot of the last 10 weeks of my life. If I were a different person, I could use less words and fit it all into one post. But if you know me, you know "succint" is not in my toolkit.

As I shared in an earlier post, my motto for the last couple years has been "love the life you live." Paul and Timothy both touted the virtues of contentment. I have made a point - almost a discipline - of noticing and being thankful for the little blessings that God had poured out on me. 12 weeks ago, I had one of those great weeks that are easy to enjoy. Dinner with a friend. Checkups with the dentist and the eye doctor. Lining up easy work for the summer, and looking forward to vacation. Preparing for the end of the school year, and planning ahead for the next one. Organizing. Cleaning. A friend even came into my classroom one weekend to help me re-arrange posters so the walls would be ready for September. Ballet with yet another friend, and chosing shows to see the following season.

Then, June 3 (just over 10 weeks ago), in a sermon series on the Lord's prayer, we hit the phrase "give us this day our daily bread." Simple, right? Just a handy reminder that God's our ultimate provider, that He wants us to rely on Him, and that He's happy to give us what we need.

Unless you dwell on it. Simple doesn't stay simple for long when you really think about it.
"Give us this day our daily bread."
Like He did for the Israelites in the desert. When they didn't know what to expect or how they would survive, God rained down mana from heaven. Simple fare. Basic. But it met their needs. They rejoiced. It was like nothing they'd ever had before. It was amazing. They were satisfied.

Until they weren't. They complained. Still the food came.
Then they whined about the other petty problems they had. Still the food came.
Then they turned to an idol. A golden cow. An idol it took them days to make.
Still the food came. Every morning. While they used their talents and treasures to create a statue to worship.

Still the food came.

WOW! That understanding blew me away. Literally blew open the doors of my mind.

Now, some of you will read this and go "duh." I think that's the way spiritual maturity is supposed to work, and I'm glad. I've been a Christian for 20+ years, and am also glad I still get surprised by God. It makes my heart dance when I figure out some new truth.

And for me, that's what happened early on the morning of June 4. I finally truly understood that God takes care of His own, always. ALWAYS. Once you trust your life to Jesus, commit to following Him, no matter what wilderness might appear, God will always provide for you. I'd spent most of my journey walking with God the Protector. Now I was finding myself face-to-faith with God the Provider.

Whose Spirit reminded me of another familiar word - the one at the top of this post.

You see, as much as I loved my life 12 weeks ago, I felt restless. Incomplete. Frustrated. I wanted ... something. But I was afraid to reach out and try to find it because I could see what a good life I had. I felt like the most ungrateful wretch being dissatisfied in any way with such a lovely life. God had blessed me in so many ways. How could I not just be still and enjoy them? Turns out, I was not made to sit still.

Turns out that one of the desires of my heart was to move.
To see some more of "God's green Earth."
To challenge myself in the million ways you do when you move.
To be nearer my family and watch my nieces and nephew grow up.
To be where the sun shines more often than not.

I *do* love the life I left behind. I love my friends. The beautiful scenery. The temperate weather. The safety of the school and community where I lived.

But I also love adventure.

And I trust that God will provide. Because more than anything, I love my God. And He promised that He's got me covered.

Two Weeks Notice (PS 92:4)

Two weeks from yesterday, one of the top 5 most interesting men I know (under 40) is coming for a visit. (Before you get bent out of shape, dad, note all the qualifiers in that sentence).

Two weeks from today, I'll get to see a gal-pal I haven't seen in over 7 years while enjoying a bit of the crazy life that is her "normal," and doing good deeds for kids (check out OlympiaPubCrawl Weekend on FB). She's easily one of the most interesting women I know under 40, too.

Of course, I don't seem to know any dull, boring, or uninteresting people - of any age - but that's for another post. 

Two weeks from tomorrow, I'll be on my way to start the next phase of my life.

It's going to be a busy couple of weeks.

Before all that happens, I have to finish packing up my old life. Load it on a truck. Stuff my car with the essentials (after I figure out what those are). I have to deep clean my near-empty apartment. I have to check in with the doctors and the cable company to be sure I haven't got any loose ends. I have to print maps, just in case the electronics fail me en-route. (I do have my grandmother's sense of direction, after all).

I have to bake cookies and a cake. Because I have all the ingredients, and there's really no sense in wasting them. 

Then I get to take those cookies and that cake to friends' and share them. Because I have a lot of visiting to do in the next two weeeks. I get to help a family welcome a much-beloved soldier home from a tour of duty. I get to celebrate Christmas in July with the most fantastic group of foodies around. I get to be the guest of honor at a party I'm throwing. I get to wander by the waterfront. I get to help a friend move. I get to go to a concert. I might even get to a garden.

I'm so excited about my move - and so busy getting ready for it - that I haven't got time to worry (much). But it's okay. Because I know God's got it covered. I get to rely on Him. And I love that. 

For you make me glad by your deeds, Lord; 

I sing for joy at what your hands have done.

-Psalm 92:4

(Repost) Wanderers!

I originally posted this in the summer of 2009 on facebook. Reposted because... well... summer's coming!

So...

If you know me well at all, then you know that I grew up in a family of wanderers. Nomads. Gypsies. Whatever you want to call it, we are a people who don't know how to stay put. If you don't know me well (yet), perhaps the easiest way to sum it up is to say I attended 10 schools from grade six through grade 12. I'm not an "army brat." I'm blue-collar, and proud of it. Mom's a waitress. Dad's in construction. We follow the work. Sometimes this requires a very "flexible" lifestyle.

From all that wandering, I learned some valuable lessons.

1) There is a correct way to load a moving van. There is also a correct way to drive one.
2) Home is people, not places.
3) Everywhere is somewhere. Enjoy it. Your life is someone else's vacation destination.
4) Keep a book handy. They don't need to be plugged in, charged up, or properly loaded. They don't interfere with other people's conversation. You decide when to "play." There is no time limit. If you loose one it's not the end of the world.
5) There is no thing you own that you cannot replace. Some are just harder to find than others. Searching for them can be fun, too.
6) Real friends keep in touch, even if only once-in-a-while.
7) You'd be surprised how far you can stretch $5 when you really need to.
8) A plan is helpful. Trusting in the plan makes all the difference.

I also learned that it's okay to take risks. Sometimes things don't go quite the way you'd hoped. That's frustrating. Annoying. Depressing. Ultimately, though, you will survive. You'll come out on the other side with another great story to tell.

This recession has been hard on construction. Waitresses, too. There hasn't been steady work for months, so it's time to move on. Time for a fresh start in a new place. Actually, not so new. They're heading back to the North East, where they both grew up. Because there hasn't been much work, they made a tough call to try to sell the furniture instead of moving it with them. I know how hard that decision was. A lot of it hasn't sold yet. That makes it even harder. There is no fairy godmother to turn the furniture into gasoline along the way. Still, they need to go, so they'll make do with what they've got. I believe they will be fine. They always are.

My folks are some of the bravest people I know. This year they turn 50. They've been together for 20+ years now. Some folks mark these milestones with roots firmly planted, branches spread, settled in to rest and survey a familiar landscape. Not my folks. They pack up. Pick up. Move out. Don't hesitate (much). Do what it takes.

That's what I want to be like when I'm 50.

BOLD.