I've meant to sit down and write about this for some time now. I wanted to be sure I put it all down in words for two reasons: 1. So that I don't forget all the little details contained in our journey; 2. So that the story of our journey will be preserved for our kids to read once they're older and can understand exactly what happened.
This is certain to be a long post.
The Back Story
I'm not entirely sure where to begin. Maybe this story actually begins with a little background. Jason and I began dating during our last semester of college. As we searched for jobs, I found a job that took me back to my hometown (Greenville, SC). He found himself taking a media sales class to fill our last semester. Lo and behold, that one class changed his career path as he landed a job in Florence, SC in the newspaper advertising business. (His degree is in art -- photography, specifically -- and his minor is in mass communication.)
We dated long distance, got engaged and planned our wedding for April of 2005. We realized one of us needed to move in order for us to end up in the same city. I prayed a lot, cried a lot and, eventually, decided God was calling me to move to Florence. (Yuck.) But, I said yes.
Through a very complicated and unforeseen series of events, we actually ended up living in my 800 sq. ft. apartment in Greenville, before quickly moving into our current house (also in Upstate, SC)...instead of Florence.
That's the first time God asked me to really trust and step out of my comfort zone as far as big life change. He asked me to move. I said yes. He answered with what I can only describe as, "I just wanted to see if you'd trust me."
We lived comfortably here for six years. Jason received promotions, and I stepped out of the corporate world and into mommyhood.
Florida Calling: Part 1
Sometime around the time I got pregnant with our second child, Jason's discontentment with his job became apparent. Unbeknownst to me, he began to pray for God to reveal to him the next step in his career. In the fall of 2011, he ended up interviewing for a job promotion in Florida that seemed like a sure thing.
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| Our little family of three...with baby #2 on the way |
I was devastated. I didn't know how to pray for this specific circumstance. I didn't want to move to Florida, especially not that particular city. Nothing about it felt right. I couldn't imagine picking up and moving so far away and while so pregnant. I was paralyzed. The status of our lives hinged on this one job and the people making the decision about who to hire. I couldn't start working on a nursery, because I didn't even know if we'd be in that house, much less that state, when the baby came. I didn't want Jason to get the job, because I didn't want to move. But I also didn't want my husband to be passed over for the job, because I wanted his career to thrive. What on earth did that leave? I prayed for God's will, for my ability to conform to it, and for discernment.
I could have never anticipated the outcome of that job interview. Jason's career had always moved right along. He interviews well, and he was the favorite for this position going into the interview process. A few weeks went by with no call about the position. Since it was within the same company, we knew we'd find out either way. Eventually, we found out that the company would be going through some changes and that they decided to hold off on hiring that position altogether.
Whoa. Bullet dodged.
Florida Calling: Part 2:
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| Putting up the tree decal |
At this point, I at least knew that Jason was praying for career next steps. He and I talked some about the possibility of him taking some seminary classes online or in the evening. I didn't really foresee him going into ministry, so I didn't see any reason to add recreation seminary classes to our hectic lives...and our growing family.
In January, his company changed hands, but it didn't much change the day-to-day of Jason's job. The trauma of the Florida near-miss faded, and we prepared for the arrival of baby #2. We rearranged rooms. We had a yard sale. We painted. We bought furniture. We painstakingly applied a five-foot-tall vinyl tree decal onto our baby girl's nursery wall. Everything was ready.
Then he got the call. As the company changed hands, and ultimately relocated the corporate office from one city to another, some of the corporate staff decided to find new jobs instead of moving with the company. That left a job opening in Jason's area of expertise. And the man who decided to leave the job behind recommended my husband for that position. This must be God providing the next step for Jason.
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| The finished nursery |
So, a mere two weeks before my due date with our baby girl, Jason got on a plane and flew to Daytona Beach, Florida. I hardly moved a muscle while he was gone. I prayed my brains out that I wouldn't go into labor while my husband was two states away. I'd been on my hands and knees, scrubbing our kitchen floor each day during our son's nap time; during Jason's trip, I was afraid to lift a finger and, instead, spend time on my hands and knees praying I didn't go into early labor. Our son was four days late (and, ultimately, induced), so history didn't indicate that I had anything to worry about. But my worst fear was giving birth to our daughter without her daddy there to experience it. I still can't believe we all agreed to traveling that close to my due date.
Thankfully, while Jason flew to Florida, interviewed, and returned, I remained pregnant.
I confided in two very close friends who also committed to pray for us. We told virtually no one that we were going through this process, because we didn't want anyone to worry needlessly that we were moving if we didn't end up leaving.
March 9, 2012
Less than two weeks later, Jason got another call. This was a big one. On March 9, 2012, they offered Jason the job...the job that required us to relocate to Daytona Beach. On March 9, 2012, four days before my due date, I went into labor and gave birth to our beautiful baby girl. I honestly think the two were related. The shock of the job offer put me into labor.
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| The night we met our precious baby girl |
We prayed a lot those next few days. A lot of people do when they have a newborn. This was different, though. Instead of slipping into a blissful-yet-sleep-deprived postpartum state of existence, I was forced to think. To pray. To participate in a life-changing decision-making process. (I don't think most experts recommend making big decisions just days after giving birth. Just saying...)
However, we sought God. We trusted Him to lead us where He wanted us to go. And I trusted my husband to lead our family. I leaned on Ephesians 5:22-24 during this time. Many people see that 'S' word as a dirty word. It was during that time in my life that God truly taught me what submission to my husband looks like. I didn't want to go. I was angry. I was scared. I could see the same in my husband. A decision had to be made (quickly), and, ultimately, I trusted my husband's judgment and God's leading and said yes.
I was brokenhearted. I had the joy of a brand new baby in my arms, but my heart was torn in two. I had never imagined that our lives would be turned upside down like this.
House Hunters: Florida
When our daughter was just three weeks old, we dropped our son off with his grandparents and boarded a dirty plane with our pristine newborn. We had to find a place live. I also needed to at least visit the city where we planned to move. I had never been to Daytona Beach before.
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| Visiting the beach on our house hunting visit |
Jason had been down a week prior to scout out some places. We looked at all the houses he'd seen that weren't objectionable. A few of the favorites had already been scooped up in just a week's time. Frustration. We looked at plenty of houses that had come on the market since his first trip. Nothing felt quite right. More frustration. We even met with a builder.
We didn't want to settle for something. We wanted something that we would love. Ideally, it would be a step up from our current house. After all, a promotion to an executive job calls for at least a slight promotion in living conditions, right? If we were going to buy a place, we wanted it to have the few things we wished our house in South Carolina had.
Furthermore, Daytona Beach has four residential areas, and we weren't sure which area would best fit our lives and our needs.
We felt defeated. We prayed some more. We went into our last half-day of house hunting on a mad dash to find temporary living. We toured the few apartment complexes that had three-bedroom units available for a quick move-in. I cried. I couldn't even imagine moving into a tiny apartment that wasn't much bigger than where we'd started seven years earlier (and two fewer kids ago). There was even an apartment development that offered a large, wall-mounted flat-screen TV in each unit. That was not a big enough consolation prize to win me over.
We were quickly running out of time and stumbled upon one last apartment community. It put all the others to shame. And they had a three-bedroom first-floor unit coming available within the month. We had very little time to tour it, stop for lunch, gas up our rental car and speed through security at the airport. I also vaguely remember realizing (very late) that our flight was earlier than we thought it was. Panic.
We got back on a plane with no place to live (no papers signed, at least).
The Big Move
It's crazy how fast things happened after Jason accepted the job. Within a week, we met with a realtor and started the process of getting the house on the market. We prayed that our house would show well and sell quickly. We thought our listing would go into MLS on a Monday. Instead, it went up on a Friday, and we immediately had someone who wanted to see it. Panic! We didn't feel like we could turn down a showing, so I busted my tail for four hours (less than two weeks after giving birth and while supervising a toddler and a newborn) to get the house ready to show.
During this time, we also communicated (via e-mail and phone) with the last apartment complex we visited. We overnighted paperwork and checks. We signed the shortest possible lease (seven months) with every intention of breaking that lease once we found a house.
We'd managed to find God led us to a best-case-scenario apartment. First floor. Three bedrooms. 1300-something square feet. Gated complex. Fabulous pool. Awesome location (30 seconds from Target, 5 minutes from the beach and 10 minutes from Jason's office).
Our unit was even on the end of a little off-shoot of the main road/parking lot (which was an especially big blessing when you're unloading two kids under two out of a car). All our windows looked out at grass and a fence instead of at neighbors, which was a nice comfort for two people used to owning our own home with our own yard.
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| Friends helping Jason load up the U-Haul |
We decided Jason would move down first with very few pieces of furniture, a small allotment of kitchen items and other necessities. Less than two weeks after our return from our house hunting trip, a few of our guy friends came over to help Jason load up a U-Haul trailer. He closed up the trailer, and we said our goodbyes. We honestly didn't know when we would see each other again...or when he would see his now five-week-old baby next. It was tough.
Our original plan was for Jason to get settled into his job and get the necessary business travel out of the way before the kids and I joined him in Florida. That way, I could stay where I had family and friends to support me and help with the kids. We thought the travel would mostly end after a few weeks. We were wrong. It turned out that Jason would be traveling often for his job, and there was no end in sight. With that knowledge, we expedited my move.
I had been packing boxes little by little along the way. There were plenty of things we didn't need every day that could be tucked away until further notice. At this point, I kicked the packing into high gear and called the moving company to get an estimate and a move date.
I entered Stress City. I packed as much as possible. Meanwhile, I was still up and down all night long with a newborn and struggling to spend as much time as possible with friends and family while I was still in the same city as them.
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| Moving out of our house |
On April 26, a dear friend (and Godsend) picked up our son so that he could avoid the stress of seeing strange men take all of our things out of our house. The movers invaded our house, packed all that we owned into a moving truck and prepared to drive it to Florida. As they packed the truck, they took my instruction regarding which items would go to our apartment and which would go to the storage unit Jason had secured for us. We knew we didn't need to clutter up the apartment with things like photo albums, serving dishes and sentimental items. We also had no choice but to store things like our washer and dryer (the apartment came furnished with a set), our refrigerators, our lawnmower, our dining room suit, our guest bedroom furniture, and the other things that would eventually fill out our house. After a while, the foreman approached me and asked what size our storage unit was. I told him (10x15 is what we'd reserved, I think). He laughed. He literally laughed. He said there was absolutely no way all those things could fit in that space. It was heartbreakingly frustrating, but ended up being a gift from God. I can't imagine what would have happened if the movers had shown up at our storage unit and didn't have anywhere to put the remainder of our belongings.
Over the weekend, the movers dropped our things off, and Jason worked his tail off to get as much of the apartment settled as possible. In the meantime, the kids and I stayed in Greenville with my dad. Mom and I cleaned the house from top to bottom. My heart ached because my baby girl had never slept a single night in the nursery we'd worked so hard to prepare for her. I walked out the door, wondering if I'd ever set foot in that house again.
On Sunday, April 29, my mom and I loaded up my car and the kids and settled in for my official move to Florida. I bawled my eyes out when I said goodbye to my dad and my sister. And I was so thankful for the company on the drive down. To date, the longest drive I'd ever undertaken with either child was four hours. I had no idea what eight hours would look like. By the grace of God, the trip was rather uneventful. My poor seven-and-a-half week old daughter was a trooper, just as she had been on the day the movers packed the house.
We arrived at our apartment around 4:30 p.m. Nothing seemed real. It seemed like we were just down in Florida for vacation...with our furniture. It wasn't until much, much later that I would realize how true that sentiment actually was.
Our late start, detour through town and unexpected potty break (at Ingles, no less) meant that we didn't get to Pisgah Highway until after 11:00. As we made our way deeper into the Pisgah National Forest, I spotted a picnic spot off to the left. Jason and I made a quick decision to go ahead and stop for lunch. We parked, grabbed the cooler and took our pick of picnic tables. We chose a nice spot by the river. I can't say our lunch was exciting...just whatever we had in the fridge this morning. Our secluded lunch spot soon became the scene of a family reunion (at least that's what I imagined it to be). As their family poured in, ours slipped out. We changed the kids into their bathing suits and hopped back into the car for the remaining few miles to Sliding Rock.
We paid the park guard our $2 per person. It actually only cost us a whopping $4 to take our entire family, since kids under six get in free. You can't beat that. We found a perfect parking spot that was close and in the shade. We shed the clothes we didn't need (making sure to keep our shorts on) and buckled the kids into their life jackets. Off we went.
The line moved quickly, and we took our first run of the day. B sat in my lap, and R rode with Jason. I know B enjoyed the ride, but she wasn't terribly fond of the super cold water at the bottom. We took about half a dozen turns down the rock before we decided to take a break to let the kids warm up. B's lips were blue, and both kids shook with shivers.
On the way out of town, we stopped by Looking Glass Falls. We walked down the 397 stairs (it's not really that many, but that's what it felt like) to view the falls from the bottom. R desperately wanted to crawl out over the rocks and toward the falls. I was thankful that we'd already dried off and could use that as an excuse. Maybe next time, little buddy.
