This spring, I hitched my family’s wagon to a star and took a new job in another state. Granted, it’s much closer to my parents, relatives, and old friends, but it’s a whole new world. Now we are in the midst of trying to renovate our home so we can become first-time landlords, while hoping we have a place to live before my new job begins in late summer. Our house is half torn apart, and our son is busy seeding toys everywhere as if he hopes they’ll grow into more. And I find myself in the grip of mind-numbing fear, not knowing what comes next.
Logic tells me that we have the summer to complete our renovations, and now that I’m down to the last two days of school, I will be able to relieve my husband of child-watching duty so he can finish up everything. He tells me not to worry, but there’s so much that isn’t nailed down yet (both literally and figuratively). We keep showing the house to prospective renters, but so far, everyone says it’s too small. To us this is an asset, because it’s very inexpensive to heat, something that should matter to people living in Maine, but which is difficult to convey in June. Every time I receive a text from my husband (“Nope.”), I panic a little more. It’s become more than apparent to me that I am not comfortable with the unknown. I preach the necessity of faith, but now that we are walking around in it, I find myself lacking the skills to hang on without incessant worry. My nights are filled with what-ifs and my days plagued by self-doubt.
My new job is a very important opportunity for me; professionally, I’m moving on to a place which will be much more in line with my educational philosophy, and also will allow me to finally get a higher degree without draining our meager resources. I’m leaving a job environment that was very negative and emotionally draining, and somewhere within me, I know I’m doing the right thing. What bothers me is the possibility that I made this decision selfishly, and that my family will have to sacrifice for me. I never wanted that. I suppose that this is a test of my faith, and a reminder that I have so much to be thankful for: a loving family, a roof over our heads, our health, and a job. Back in the days when I was a church-goer, I learned that the most vital prayer you can make is “Thy will be done.” The challenge is that you have to say it and mean it. Come what may, we will stick together as a family. We will have a roof over our heads, somewhere. It will all work out. If I say it enough times …
