a memorable move

One week. It's been one week since we moved.

I will never forget the experience our family had while moving from residency to my husband's first "real" job. After staying two and a half weeks with my in-laws, (which was honestly like *heaven* - my mother-in-law cooked for me and even did my laundry a few times, kept my kids happy, fed them while I slept in... I know!), a huge going-away-party that a friend planned for our family, (lots of hugs and sad goodbyes), one week at the beach with my family while my husband finished his fellowship, (also deeply relaxing with long runs along the empty beach, my sister's baby to cuddle with, delicious meals made by my sister, more sleeping in while my sister fed my kids breakfast in the mornings... I know - I love her so much!), three days of driving 18-hours (my husband in his car with two kids and me in my van with two kids), four days at my husband's family reunion, (lots of little second cousins pulling my kids in different directions which allowed for fun adult conversations, lots of hugs, surrounded by people who love us and care about our family), and finally we arrived to our new home.

It was exhausting! We felt like sleeping for a month. But, within two days my husband's grandfather passed away (who lived just two miles from our new home). We spent time with him (my husband would not leave his side). We visited with family. We cried. And we tried to find time to unpack. We finally attended church after five days here and our kids were delighted to meet some friends.

One month. It took us one month to move 18 hours away.

I hope this is the city and home that we choose to live in - forever. I honestly never, ever want to move again.

I'll post some pictures eventually. But right now the house is pretty empty. And it will stay that way for a while. My husband's first pay check doesn't come until the end of September, and we are just barely out of residency and fellowship - the financially tightest five years of our lives.

But, but, we survived those five years. We are still married. And, we are still happy. Very, very happy.

moving away

I recently received an e-mail from the mother of one of my daughters' closest friends.  She told me that they are moving before the school year begins.  My heart sank.  I wasn't sure how to tell my daughter.  She adores this sweet friend; she has largely been surrounded by boys her entire life and was beyond delighted to meet this little friend in school this year.  My daughter walked in the room a few minutes later and I told her the news.  She lowered her head and drew close to me.  I was so sad for her.  We cried together, sorrowing for the loss of one of her favorite friends.

The topic came up again and again during the following days, her concerns about other friends moving, when we would be moving again, how far away her friend was moving and why.  It suddenly struck me one day that we had never had friends move away from us - we have always been the ones moving away.  We have moved often during the years of my husbands' undergrad studies, medical school studies, internship, and residency training.  

And, we will be moving again.

I decided in that moment that it must be easier to move, to leave others behind, than to be the ones left behind.  But, subsequently, I have changed my mind.  I believe it is always hard to be separated from others, those whom we have grown close to, the people that have made our lives a little easier and a lot better, those that have brought happiness and enjoyment to our daily lives, ones we have learned to depend on and give of ourselves to, friends we will never forget.

Yes, it is always hard to say goodbye - no matter which end you are on.