June 11, 2001. It was a warm, cloudy day. The U-Haul was packed and ready to go that morning – sitting in the front yard. My distraught 6 year old daughter continued her threats to superglue herself to the side of the house. (Precious. She was born for theater.) We prayed together (while I cried) in front of my favorite house I have ever lived in…
and was now leaving.
Back story:
My husband had resigned his pastoral position a few months before from a church we loved. Our 2 oldest kids had left the nest. Our life in Medford was rich, full, challenging and basically happy. We were known and loved by people we knew and loved. For years, my husband and I had both wanted to go to graduate school, but we knew it would take a move to a different city to get the degrees we wanted. He was 46. I was 36. It was now or never.
Sometimes I still can’t believe we did it. I can’t believe we lived through it. It was a huge gamble – a huge risk. The cost was extremely high. The transition was volcanic. It was violent. The first year about killed me. (If I am exaggerating, I am not aware of it. Really.)
In that first year…
We bought investment real estate (for the first time) – a duplex – and lived in it to make ends meet.
We built an apartment in the basement of a duplex (also a first time experience).
We lived 3 different places in the first 3 months after moving.
I did full-blown panic attacks.
The renters in our house in Medford threatened legal action.
We poured all available financial resources into the duplex.
Then our sewer backed up one day and ended up costing $12,000 to fix.
A drug house was just on the other side of our back yard fence.
Our daughter was diagnosed with significant medical issues.
I was down for 2 full months with viral pneumonia.
We pulled our daughter out of a horribly chaotic first grade classroom in March and I home schooled the rest of the year.
I was profoundly homesick.
We had no faith community for the first 10 months we were here.
I had very few friends and was extremely lonely.
It felt like a nightmare.
I plunged into a deep depression (think: trying desperately not to start rocking in a dark corner) and finally took anti-depressants for the first time in my life.
This is the short list.
I’m serious. The first year about killed me.
Moving our family was like transplanting a full oak grown tree. Labor intensive. Cumbersome. Awkward. Messy. Weighty. Needing heavy equipment. And then you wait and wonder if the tree will live through the shock.
Well, it did.
The next years had a lot of blood, sweat and tears as well, but we slowly settled in… and began to thrive.
JR started grad school – and loved it.
Elizabeth’s medical condition slowly improved.
Our duplex helped us stay afloat financially.
We found a church that allowed us to serve and heal.
We found a high-quality elementary school that helped us teach our daughter well.
We started to make friends.
I started grad school – and REALLY loved it.
Our life here in Portland has continued to grow and thrive. It is home. It is now a wealth instead of a wasteland. This list of blessings from the last several years is long. (Have you noticed I think in lists??)
We have a wide and deep circle of treasured friends.
JR received a Master of Arts in Pastoral Studies in 2003.
I received a Master of Arts in Counseling in 2007.
We led an outreach team to India and were deeply enriched.
Our daughter has become deeply involved in a fantastic Christian theater troupe.
We have paid off some of the debts we accrued with the transition.
Elizabeth had the privilege of singing and dancing in the Keller Auditorium.
JR is incredibly happy and fulfilled in his job at Portland Rescue Mission.
I have been blessed with a thriving private practice that brings me immense satisfaction.
Our family has survived my fight with cancer.
My fight with cancer has highlighted the love and support network we have here in Portland. (Yes, yes, you dear Southern Oregon peeps have been a substantial support, as well!)
THIS is truly the short list. Of the short list. Because the blessing list is very, very, VERY long.
Ten years. The oak tree is thriving. It has endured some gale-force storms over the last 10 years. Life is far from perfect. But (as always) what doesn’t kill you absolutely makes you stronger. So the oak tree stands…
By the gentle, sustaining and loving mercy of God.
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