First steps

In case you thought this was romantic

Today I woke to the knowledge that we will sign up our house for sale. Our home.

I went for a walk. I walked and I cried. I cried that you would take this cup from me. I cried for the home I had made that my children will never hold in their memories. I cried that I am asked to take them to live among filth and depravity. I cried that I will not dress them in their sweet school uniforms or watch them dance along manicured paths picking up honkey nuts. I cried that my daughter will leave behind her purple bike with the cute basket. I cried that I won’t be able to eat cheezels anymore. I cried for all the times I was dissatisfied and wanted more. I cried, not my will but yours.

I’m afraid. Afraid of the cost. Afraid of failure. Afraid of living without comfort. Afraid of not being able to provide financially for my children. I’m afraid of you God. I’m afraid to follow you. I’m afraid because following you doesn’t mean an easy life; it means giving my life.

I’m grateful. Grateful for a husband who grapples these feelings and doubts with me. I understand that if I had chased the manicured life, if you hadn’t challenged me, then our relationship would not be as strong as it is today. Loving you, following you, shouting at you, crying to you, submitting to you has knitted us together and bound us to you, the 3 string cord that is hard to break. That cord, I have learned, is to be put to work.

I am at peace. I am ok to fail. I trust you.

I will follow you, but don’t be offended if I cry like a baby in the backseat, ok?