life, interrupted

This past month has been a stressful one. I realized the day before yesterday that I hadn’t written a single blog post in over two weeks – nor had I written a chapter in any of my novels. I’d eked out half a chapter and managed two art commissions, but that was it. Ordinarily I’m far more prolific, but not this last month. Now that we have the issue settled, I’m at liberty to tell you why – it looked like we were going to move, possibly back to Washington. For the past month (more than that, really, but the stress didn’t get to me until February began) our house has been up for sale, we’ve been searching for a home to move into, and my Dad’s new job offer has kept us wondering whether we should go or stay. Today we received the news – the appraisal on our house didn’t go through, and we’re staying. We don’t have to pack up, we don’t have to find a house we’ve never actually seen. We’re staying.

Here’s the kicker – I wasn’t disappointed. In fact, I was overjoyed. Most of you know I’m not a fan of Georgia – I miss my Pacific Northwest, and there isn’t a Southern bone in my body. I was the only member of the family who was all-in, fully enthusiastic about moving back across the country. For a while, it seemed like things were really going our way – we had people seriously interested in the house, they were willing to pay full price, deals were going through without a hitch.

And then, God said ‘no.’ As soon as we got the news and I was able to breathe for the first time in weeks, I realized that not only was I content to stay where I was, but I was overjoyed. The relief! To know that something is settled, to lose the burden of constant worry… I was fairly giddy. I still am, obviously; unable to sleep at half-past midnight.  God moved us to Georgia in the first place, but I wasn’t content here. My complaints ranged from my dislike of Southern accents to the insects to the humidity to my total apathy toward Southern hobbies (i.e. mudding, fishing, potlucks). To be perfectly honest, those complaints still stand. I don’t like the South – and yet, for the first time in seven years, I’m happy to be here. It wasn’t until my own restless discontent wore me into a state of gray depression and unhappiness that I saw the blessing right in front of me – a home I love, the nearness of family, and a newly discovered church family.

While nothing has changed except my own outlook, it’s like I’ve been given a new lease on Georgia life. Will I ever be a Southern belle? Heaven forbid. But could I be a friendly stranger who discovers new friends and seizes new opportunities while I’m here? I’d like to think so.

Now that I’m out of my emotional slump, I’ll be back to blogging and writing regularly – already I feel like a dam has been kicked open in my mind and my imagination can start creating what it needs to again. One might almost think God knows best.


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