Hello Blog. It's me, Mikel

 Stress. Joy. Excitement. Uncertainty. Anxiety. Gratefulness. Fear. Exhaustion.

I have been asked often lately how I'm feeling about our most recent move.  I usually answer with something generic like "Oh, it's going as well as can be expected" or "We are getting there." I certainly don't answer truthfully. How could I possibly? Many people get it, to some degree at least.  Many people don't. And some people just don't really care.

Transition. 

As a mother to three and especially as a mother to a teenager in high school I find that I am almost always worrying about something. I constantly second guess my words, my actions, and my decisions, concerned about how they may affect my children both in the present and long term. 

I didn't choose to be married to a clergy person.  I didn't plan to one day be raising pastor kids. I didn't foresee a life that would have me moving my family and all my possessions 7 times in 12 years, calling four different states home.  But, here we are. 

I certainly hope to call this new place home for a long while.  I really hope to see at least two of my children graduate from the same high school. Hope. Not certainty.  That's were the fear comes in. The "what ifs" creep into my thoughts. 

Hope.

We all have things we hope to see, hope to experience, hope not to experience. When you fully understand that there are many tings outside of your control that can shatter that hope in a second, then you experience helplessness. Our lives are controlled by other people.  Our home is owned by an entity. Our income relies on the generosity of others. Our yearly appointment relies on a group of people meeting together to discern who goes to what church. We only have control over our own reactions. I only have control over myself and that's terrifying. How do I make it all ok?

Mourning.

We move once again.  We leave. We say good bye. We start over. We live in disappointment and dashed expectations. We understand we can not control how other people react. We refill pantries and refrigerators.  We navigate new towns. We organize new kitchens. We struggle to find something to feed the children after long days at a new job and unpacking. We come to grips with being far away from family, friends we know, an existence we became used to. We mourn what is no more.  

Joy.

Joy surrounds us in our new adventures. Joy is found in the face of my children as they meet a new friend. Joy is present when I sit and enjoy a cup of coffee from a fun mug in a freshly decorated new house.  Joy is in a welcoming smile from someone who is glad to see you.  Joy is sitting across from my husband as he experiences a new brewery.  Joy is in discovery.

Life Unexpected.

Each day we start anew. We try to find comfort in the chaos. We live, we love, we sleep, we clean, we do copious amounts of laundry. It's normal. A new normal. 

We put a smile on our face and excitement in the voice because the younger humans in our house need it. Make it home. Make it ok. Give them hope. I can't let myself be weighed down by the to-dos, the uncertainty, the socializing when all my introverted heart wants to do is stay home and read a book. 

I cant control other people. I cant control how my children feel about things. I cant control much about this life, but I can control how I feel and react. 

Thanks for reading. Thank you for the prayers. Thank you for being a part of our lives even when we don't always see you.