The Final Straw

It was silly, really, how little it took for the puddle of tears to form.

I was dressed up in layers; wool socks, long john’s and undershirt, pants and long-sleeved shirt, shell jacket, toque and gloves and of course my hiking boots. We were outside all day sorting and carrying things from the quanset and shop into our cargo trailer. The cold wind was whipping hair around my face like dull knives without threat, more irritating than damaging.

Load after load we pulled, pushed and heaved. Our well-worn path to the trailer was sloppy; small ice patches that looked like little islands in between oozing mud and melting snow made for treacherous footing. I was thankful for my boots.

At the end of the day we got out of our muddy gear and that’s when I noticed. Cracks had opened up a gaping hole in the sole of my boot and bam…snot bubbles and salty tears!

The boots were special. I’d had them since I climbed Kilimanjaro, trained in them and then climbed in the Himalaya’s with them many years ago. They felt like slippers to me, well worn, perfectly contoured to my feet. Reliable. Familiar. Dependable in the face of the chaos in front of me that day. It was the final straw.

Maybe it was the physical exertion or maybe it was the stress of looming deadlines. Maybe it was our life lying around in piles on the ground, dismantled and feeling broken. Probably all of it.

Moving forces us to willingly embrace the unknown. We have to throw off the familiar, the stability and routine we’ve become accustomed to and trade it in for something we can only hope for~something better. Doesn’t that sound lofty and so very sanctimonious? I’m actually pep-talking myself because although I like to be mov-ed, I don’t like the mov-ing.

We’re relocating to a place that’s closer to 2 of our 3 children. It means less time eating up endless miles on the road to see them. It means sharing Sunday dinners and random sleepovers with our grandkids. It means finally being together.

Isn’t that what the very essence of home is, family?

But, to get there we have to leave here, and I’m finding the breath catch in my throat when I think of the final load leaving the yard. Can I be ecstatically happy and profoundly sad at the same time? Indeedio as hubs likes to say.

We arrived here almost 10 years ago after a major life change provided an opportunity to explore new things God had for us.

We were terrified

We were thrilled

We were crazy

The Lord took our uncertainties and fears and blessed us beyond measure. It’s certainly not everyone’s story, to move multiple times , but it’s our story and it’s been amazing.

10 years ago our oldest daughter was newly married, now all of our children are married and each one has been blessed with a wonderful spouse.

10 years ago we had no grandchildren, now we have 8.

10 years ago our son was healthy, now he’s gone through 3 open heart surgeries and is living with a life-changing bacterial infection.

10 years ago we had only dreamt of owning our own small business, now we’ve owned 2 and successfully transitioned them to new owners who are thriving in the industry.

10 years ago we didn’t know a soul in this area when the Lord lead us to the doorstep of the church that would become home for us and met people who would become like family to us.

10 years ago we had no idea any of you existed here and you didn’t know us, now we count you as beloved friends and wonderful neighbours.

It hasn’t been easy, nothing worthwhile ever is but above all it’s been worth it.

Winnie the Pooh says it best: How lucky I am having something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

…see you on the other side

XO