With pretty much everyone well-informed on what's happening now, I'm getting a lot of questions about how I'm feeling. And it is just so lovely to be cared for, though I honestly haven't been doing a very good job answering this question. It's safe to say, I'm feeling everything in the face of this adventure. I'm trying to take it all in stride and just let the emotions come as they will.
A month or so ago, after we'd gotten the news, I left for a trip to the city that I'd had planned for months. I was going for work of my own, mainly; though it all felt different boarding a plane for what was to be my future home, not just some place I visited and romanticized over and where my friends lived. Oh, how I've longed to live in New York City--for as long as I can remember! For as long as my mom can remember! And isn't it a funny thing when your lifelong dreams suddenly materialize into realities?
All that to say, I think to better answer "how I'm feeling," I'll just share what I wrote on the plane that morning. It's a bit long (it's a long flight, guys), and it's a bit scattered (I'm a processor when I journal); but I think it gets to the heart of how I really feel and what this all means. Thanks for all your support and well-wishing! I'm excited to keep sharing our adventures with you.
Here I sit, floating above the clouds and an icy patchwork quilt below me, flying headstrong into the sunrise and the start of a new day flooding it all in rose colored light. All things are made new, and that's easy to see from up above and looking down on an earth that is actually so small. When you're moving this quickly but with this much perspective, it is like you're actually traveling in slow motion. And I like that it seems slow, because I am overwhelmed with this moment, a point in time that, for whatever reason, I'm able to remember and see and love that I am here and human and alive. I'm experiencing a gift, right now this very minute, and really can every day too, if I pay attention.
The whole horizon is a rainbow now, like I'm being encircled by a promise--it is before me and behind me and buffering me in hope and opportunity and peace on all sides. It is a big and maybe even uncertain promise, but who could be frightened by something so beautiful? Seek, seek, seek and move in confidence. As sure as the sun rises to reveal a new day, our souls can be refreshed and revived, changed and redirected--that's what I can see from up here.
This is what it looks like when you start over, when you're fresh-faced and rosy cheeked, just like you too are soaked in that unmistakable rising light that greets with a faithful glow. A sunrise is really a fleeting moment: Orange for just minutes before giving way to a bright and illuminating light. Not everything is visible, but it all feels warm on the brink. Then things are clearer in the full sunlight.
Still, that crack of dawn! What a delicious glimpse of how beautiful anticipation can be. We don't see it all yet, but the horizon glimmers while a dark night lingers behind.
The sun beckons East, beckons us into that fleeting moment where it begins.
The sun beckons East.
They are the seconds in between, and they are full of tension. There are no real footholds. There is nothing yet tangible. Still it's graceful, like floating in this airplane. It's a freedom from all things past and future and it's like only dreaming. It's a twinkling in-between that is a pause, a rest, a reminder to consider all things.
Now life beckons East.
I wanted desperately to be wholly happy in Denver. But my soul kept stirring and then stirring turned to want for something else. I fought my discontent like it was a character flaw, all the while dissatisfaction growing in me--not because this isn't a paradise on earth but because maybe it is not my paradise. So instead I moved against my sort of natural grain, corrupting where I was and also what I had once dreamed of.
Then suddenly! Here we are being given something new--here we go, away! Away we go. How could I be sad? But I am not just sad; I am crushed and heartbroken, disappointed in myself. Finally, after all that desiring for it, everything I had to admonish "Be enough!" is instantly so full of life and meaning. And now I have to let it all go. Still, as important as it has become now (as it always has been), the fact remains that something in me feels it is not enough. At least not right now. And somehow, from this position, I can love those beautiful bright spots in my life again for exactly what they are while I await what is coming. They are no longer jaded with the sun rising ahead of me.
Somewhere over the course of flying through these hot pink clouds, I realized: It's okay to be sad. It is good to be sad, and I should experience that sadness in full. It's the very thing that is granting meaning, and I really can enjoy everything from here. These few weeks are my sunrise moments. They are my chance to be and soak in everything--like a rosy light flooding and warming me. There is exciting adventure ahead! And the sadness behind is so, so very rich, brought on by the incredible love of family and friends, and all the little makings of this life we have started together. Denver was the birthplace in so many ways--even some literal--and now I can thank it for all it's created in my life rather than struggle against my unsettled spirit.
When I get back from this trip, things will be put in motion. The middle ground will become less and less a sunrise and more and more the complete start of a new day. We will be shedding layers, deeper and deeper until we are scrubbed clean enough to start again. Some of it will be freeing; and some of it will be almost unbearable. Because there are pieces of my life here that did come so naturally, as much as I think I knew this might not be the place for me right now. We will bid farewells and sell possessions and pass along that lovely little bungalow, our home, to someone else needing the same start that we did just a few years back, and I will do all those things with an immensely heavy heart.
But it is right. I know it is.
All in all, it makes me think of this poem that I wrote ages ago, because though the destination reads differently, the spirit does not. He made this happen for me. He saw my dream and not only brought it to life, he made it his dream too. Now this is our adventure. It's us taking on the world, lying awake at night and making plans in scared and excited whispers. We will watch our girls blossom from something new; but always we will remember that it was ours before it was anyone else's. It was something we thought and then dreamed and then saw fall into place, and we can marvel together that we will be living out what was once only real in our minds.
"Our love won't change,
So we'll be the same.
Just in a different place with a different name."