Thursday, March 11, 2010

I'm Still Here. Kind of.




It's been a long time.

I could bore you to death with the details. (I will spare you.) So here's the short version.

My best friend and husband of 29+ years (same person, just in case you are wondering) and I have done something...unpredictable, outside-the-box, wild, totally-not-like-us-at-all.

We relocated. Moved. Changed the address. Packed up and left. Forwarded the mail.

Well, he does jump on a plane to work 24/5 in the big city. And then he comes home to the country, to the mountains, to the rivers, to the slow life...to me. (He might work 24/2 when he's here,too, but that's okay. We're here, together, in a place that has mysteriously moved us from the day we first-by accident-arrived. A place that teased us, whispered in our ears, pulled our heartstrings with the promise that something was waiting for us here. Here in the shadow of snow-capped mountains, by the river, near a forest of trees....where the sun shines, it snows, the sky changes by the minute, reminding me of how quickly life changes, how every view is a snapshot of a moment that will never be repeated.)

I am still a bit stunned myself.

We have surprised our friends. Our family. Ourselves.

We've always told our children to scratch their itches. They are there for a reason, not to be ignored. Now WE are scratching a longtime itch. Our now grown children have given us an incredible gift--they have encouraged us, the way we have encouraged them. Their support has been a kiss upon our dream, a blessing upon our faith that life happens the way it should when you trust that inner voice, when you truly listen for the answer to your prayer.

Sometimes you just have to pay attention to the small voice inside, the one that whispers at you when you finally quit listening to the chaos of routine and repetition.

So far I have befriended a bird who jackhammers our metal roof, I have mourned his unexpected death, I have welcomed his replacement. I have seen deer duck into my yard, wondering why I'm here. I have seen a chipmunk run toward the music of my piano and sit,listening. I have awakened to snow on the ground and wondered how things could change so much while I slept. I have watched the sun hide behind a mountain range that makes me gasp at its quiet magnificence. I have listened to...real silence...and realized how thick and rich it feels in my ears.

I said I wasn't going to bore you with details. So I'll stop now.

But let me say one more thing: I am glad I'm here. I am glad we took an unexpected leap. I am glad we don't know what happens next. I'm glad we're making it up as we go along. I'm glad. Maybe this is what faith is about. I'm not sure,but I'll let you know. I'll keep you posted. :-)

2 comments:

  1. Lovely. I am so happy for you (although I miss you being here). And I do understand that feeling-- it is totally freeing to start over. Wishing you joy.

    Carol

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  2. LOL!!! It is 1987 all over again while I am reading your notes!! Only it is you who is singing now and it was me back then!!! The birds still wake us in the morning, the deer have their young on our property for us to enjoy all summer, it still smells like you're "home" the minute you see Ponderosa trees while crossing the mountain passes and the people are still as friendly. Welcome to Bend!!
    SF

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