Recalculating.

II Cor 4:17-18

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

So this post has been a long time coming. I really wanted to begin writing about the mental transition of our move as soon as we arrived here, as a sort of therapy to help me get through the tough days inevitably ahead. Instead, each time I started to think about it, I got overwhelmed with all that we've seen, heard, and experienced since November, and my mind would shut down. I feel like the past year of my life can be summed up like a GPS when you take an abrupt departure from The Path. And the little voice says "recalculating" in a monotone.

So instead, you've read about the girls growing up, random happenings, and elk sightings. Which is all fine and well - in part it's been what's been going on. The other part includes a crisis of faith (which is still yet to be resolved completely), depression, physical overload, and learning about a love that patches all of the holes in our lives to make a family and a home.

We're still trying to wrap our minds around the people we were before and who we are now. There's a big gap between the two. And that might just be the way that it's going to be. I may never be able to explain what's happened this past year. We've had a paradigm shift. What was normal is now not. The way we defined things has completely changed. Our worldview has changed quite a bit.

Those who know me know that I don't do change very well. I do stability and consistency. I like things to stay the same for a Very Long Time. Changing me is a little bit like bending glass. Change too much, and I snap. So we had four different addresses since this time last year, And Snap I Did.

Like one of my favorite movie lines, "Do you ever feel like you're the worst version of yourself?" Why yes I have. I've Snapped At My Mom. I've Snapped At My Husband. At My Children. At My Sister. At My In Laws. And that makes me sad. Because it's wrong. I can't always change what happens in life, but I sure can change my attitude. So snap out of it already.

I've struggled with on and off depression throughout my life, usually at times of big changes, and this spring was sprinkled with quite a few dark weeks. While there are still many mornings I feel like I'm waking up in a dark fog, I'm definitely at the brighter end of the tunnel. Here's some of the bright spots:

• I love that I'm home. Big hooray. I'm spending so much more time with my kids than I ever dreamed, and it's great. I generally work in the afternoons still, but I have quite a few "visits" from the little people in our house doing crafts in my office during that time too.

• We have healthy kids. This is such a big deal, for real.

• Sam is such a kind and caring Dad and husband. Many wives don't get half the help I have.

• We truly love small town living. It's fun!

• Tuesday night pre-school pretty much makes my and the girls weeks.

• I'm making new friends, and slowly having (taking) more time to connect with old friends too.

• Our house is pretty much finished (remodeled from an old house with great bones, but in bad shape). While the remodeling process made me wonder if we should ever ever ever again take on something that large with kids and a certain timeframe, we are happy with the end results. We feel at home, and have more space to host gatherings - not to mention just a short 5 minute trip from town compared to 20 minutes where we were living previously.

I remind myself almost daily that yes, we wanted this. We brought all of this on ourselves, and don't regret it. But transition is part of the deal, like it or not, and I'm glad we're almost through.

I've really struggled with some of the Big Questions in life over the past few months; why some kids are born into such affluence and stability while others are born into a drug addiction they had no choice but to succumb to while they were still being knit together. Tiny precious babes who are born and immediately begin going through a hell of detox and withdrawl. And yet we all are created equal, and we are all equal in the love that God has for us; myself in the same line with the pillhead mom who poisons her unborn baby with her drugs. It's super humbling.

I've also struggled with the fact that we (Sam specifically) are seen as the hometown hero's just for moving back. While I'm Sam's biggest fan, I also see the other side of the story - I mean, here we are, back from Chicago, where we lived large and well. We intentionally moved here. But how about for the kids who didn't get out of their element and learn and experience new things and new perspectives? To them, we're just a spoiled family from up north who are coming back into their town. This is their life. They didn't have much choice in the matter; we did.

Along a similar vein, it took us a while to learn how to separate cultural and social issues from spiritual sin issues. I mean, hello - just because a person isn't the sharpest tool in the shed and uses poor grammar doesn't mean that they're a lesser person. And just because someone is smart and respected and sophisticated doesn't make them jump to the front of the line. I know that this is an inherent truth that our parents tried to instill in us from the beginning, but there are so many blurring of the lines here - for instance - everyone here smokes. For real - you can smoke in virtually all public places (coming from a wonderfully smoke-free city, this was a hard switch). I mean, the mayor smokes in his office here. It's just the way that it is. But honestly - smoking isn't really one of those "sin issues" any more than my getting a second bowl of ice cream is. It's an unhealthy habit that doesn't do a body good, and I think it's gross. But it's also a cultural thing. So I'm trying to learn to look the other way. (and hold my breath while moving my children to fresh air) The same thing for the moms who feed their babies soda from a bottle. Smart? Yes. Sin? If you can't tell, learning not to judge has been a struggle.

We've been angry at a lot of things since we moved. And that's been tough to work through; by nature we're not generally angry people. Angry at the welfare system that allows soda to be bought with food stamps that can then promptly be sold for drug money. Angry at the owners of the house that burned down this weekend (who burned their own house for insurance money). Angry at the banks for failing to prosecute them and continuing to set a bad example. Angry at the smoking policy in public places. Angry at guys who beat their wives. Angry at people who drive when they're high. Angry that people don't come to church. Angry at evangelical Christianity for cannibalizing each other over things like bible versions.

But anger doesn't provide benefit unless there's positive action that follows it.

But you know what? We can't take on every mountain. We're only one family, one couple who love Jesus, with a desire for change in our communities - like so many others throughout our nation. But what does that look like? THIS question has been the biggest struggle in our minds throughout this transition. The needs are so so very many. The workers so very few. We've questioned our original intent to move (for youth work) - should we opt instead for a marriage ministry? For neighborhood ministry? More community involvement? Educational focus since education is of such poor quality here? And about this whole "God's Will" bit. Does He even care exactly WHAT we do, so long as we're doing something, no matter where we are? In any case, we've established that the path isn't going to be lit with glow sticks.

Our good friend Bob told us before we moved "This whole 'move to Kentucky because we want to work with youth' thing kind of sounds like two kids that want to get married because they're in love". Yep. You were right. We're completely unequipped to deal with the things we're being confronted with.

And so we're getting some training in counseling, building on what Sam already took when we were up in Chicago. And we're learning a new dependency on each other, God, and our close family and friends who support us in this nutty endeavor. (Which yes, it truly is)

So there's my brain dump. It's been on my mind -and on my heart, for a while. It just took a while to get out. I will end with this - even in my darkest moments and hours that I become the cynic and skeptic, I know that there is a God. I can never deny that. And I'm praying that He'll give me a true and unblemished love for the people that we are here to serve.

" One can give without loving, but one cannot love without giving"

— Amy Carmichael