I've heard it said that the unknown can inspire the greatest of adventures. You're calling out to us in unfamiliar voices; my head is swimming with strangers' words that affirm and shake what I know I couldn't possibly be ready for. My heart sinks and I breathe in deeply at the truth: ready or not, here we come.
Aaron received a job offer we knew he wouldn't get or take. Isn't it scary when something you know to be absolutely true is quite wrong? I am reminded who is really moving and choosing and changing and giving and taking away in this life. We know so little. Aaron was offered an engineering job in wind energy... a job that will stimulate this adventure seeking heart that I love so. He will travel, leaving me months at a time with just you, Houston. With two and a half days to make a decision, we sought the council of friends and spent nights silently rummaging for the "right" words to process how we could possibly begin to choose what is "right". Discernment. Houston, I don't know what I'll think about you in a few months, but you will forever be remembered as "that time we learned about discernment." Discerning is hard. And I wish we could say we went about this ordeal in the exact way He wanted us to, but I am far from perfect. But He forgives. And not only does He forgive, He is good. And has been reminding me every day since. He teaches us married folk how to trust Him and communicate with each other.. how to let the other know "I respect you enough to go" and "I hear your concerns and want to validate your fears."
Sometimes when life throws a new one at you, tears will come and words will dump out that you didn't know you knew about in your heart, because they're those dark heavy words that sleep deep down inside and don't come out unless they really have to. Unless they are provoked. In two days, all of my fears rose to the surface, and I couldn't swallow them and bury them again. Houston, i'd be lying if I said you didn't ruffle some feathers. But you're taking a shape of your own; our hearts are connecting the dots and forming maps; we're listing names and neighborhoods and we're hearing that God's faithful people are there, too. It all seems so strange.
Now, to start things off on the right foot, you should know that although I hope not to, I may be dragging my feet a little. Come June, Aaron and I will be packing up the only life I know here in Raleigh and heading your way. I'm prone to wander, prone to shut off, prone to welcome my friends isolation and the reclusive. But I will fight to keep my eyes on Him; I will let you hold me accountable for practicing the language of gratitude, for seeking out purpose and who He says He is. I'll try my best to let you see me... even in the dark. May He use these letters to draw me in close, to remind me I am not alone, and to show me that we are called to you, this city, to love and learn about, to gain friendships for His glory, to leave our mark. I pray my words will help me call you home and help me to clearly see our purpose with you.