Everything should have been perfect. I should have
been happy there. I had everything I could possibly have wanted or needed. And
yet IT was there. This elephant in the room. It was riding with me in my brand
spankin’ new minivan through the carpool line. It followed me to Bible study. I
could feel it’s presence at every girls’ night, Suzuki violin lesson,
homeschool co-op meeting - do I sound like a “Stepford wife” yet? IT was always
there. This inexplicable, yet constant, nagging in my heart that I wasn’t where
God wanted my family to be, to serve, to live for Him.
What is it, Lord? Don’t you see how perfect this
place is?! It’s wrong for me to be unhappy here. Surely, something must be
wrong with ME…because this place is so idyllic to be unhappy here must be a
sin. But that pervasive feeling only grew and I had no clue why. Why did I pine
away for a sense belonging that seemed to allude me? I chalked it all up to
being new to the area. Eventually it will feel like home, we told ourselves.
Perhaps if I become more involved, serve at church, get the kids plugged into
activities, make friends…perhaps then it will feel like home.
And that is how it happened. I became the “yes”
girl. You know the one. Ask for a volunteer and my hand would shoot up before I
even knew what I was volunteering for half the time. Before too long I was
over-committed and over-whelmed. Days passed in a flurry of activity and at the
end of the day I could hardly remember a thing I’d done. My most precious
moments were the unplanned moments with my children, of which there were
precious few. There were days where the importance of projects overwhelmed the
important people in my life. And all for the sake of putting down roots and making
a “home.”
So many wonderful opportunities came my way and I seized
each one wholeheartedly. Because each was good, each was a blessing, each was
another chance to connect to this place and to the people who called it home.
And somewhere in the sea of opportunities I started to sink. I’m not sure when
it happened but I do know why. In my desire to connect and serve others I
forgot to serve God’s calling for my life. This past April, I had agreed to
meet with the magazine editor for Cool Springs
Living, a small publication that catered to upscale neighborhoods in the
Brentwood/Cool Springs area. They had asked me to take the new photographer
position. I knew what an honor that was; I knew what it could do to my photography
business. I also knew the last thing I had was time. I agreed to meet as a courtesy
that day. I had decided I had no choice but to turn down this offer. And so
after dropping the kids off at Mother’s Day Out, scurrying to Bible study, and leaving
early to be on time for our meeting at Starbucks, I arrived, albeit a bit
frazzled, but on time nonetheless. I sat in my car before I got out, gripping
the steering wheel, and was filled with a sudden dread. Absolute dread. I felt
nauseous at the prospect of telling anyone “no” and I hated myself for knowing
I was going to say “yes” despite my best efforts. Let me just tell you how
depressing it is to go to a meeting with the intentions of saying one thing and
to hear yourself saying another. I was in self-inflicted misery. I wanted to slap
myself…which would be quite difficult to accomplish effectively. Needless to
say, I said “yes” that day – which I instantly regretted.
That last “yes” flipped a switch in my mind. On my way to my first and last assignment with
that magazine I became acutely aware of the fact that each time I said ‘yes’ to
something there was less of me for the things that I truly cared about. This
would not do. I knew my situation, my commitments, my EVERYTHING needed a major
overhaul – but I didn’t see how it was possible. After all I was only trying to
put down roots and help my family feel more “at home.” To pull the plug on my
many projects now seemed like it was all in vain. Could God really be calling
me to drop it all!?
In May, Bryan and I took the family for long weekend
in the mountains. It would be a short trip to attend the wedding of one of
Bryan’s childhood friends. Unknowingly, this quick trip became the catalyst for
what would become a summer full of changes for our family.
Something happens when I come HOME. An invisible
weight lifts from my soul. The odd thing is – it is a weight I am completely
unaware of until the moment it is gone. I breathe easier. Like in my acting
days when I was squeezed into a corset for the role of Polly Peachum in “The
Beggar’s Opera.” After four hours of running around and singing in a corset I didn’t
realize how ridiculously uncomfortable I was until the moment it was taken off.
That’s how I feel when I’m in my mountains. The restricting laces of the world
loosen and I find myself lost in nature, savoring sweet family time, and
breathing in moments with my children.
That quick three day trip to the mountains was a
bucket of ice cold water awakening my heart to what mattered most to me. It was
exhilarating. It was God confirming in my mind what I had long since known to
be true in my heart. I was not living out His purpose for me in Tennessee
because Tennessee was not where he called me to be. There was a reason I failed
to feel “at home” despite my best efforts to dive in.
God spoke to Bryan that weekend too. We both knew
what we needed to do. What we lacked was the courage to do it. Returning to our
lives in Williamson County was not the same after that trip. The glittery
storefronts had lost their sparkle. My projects and commitments suddenly seemed
like glorified distractions from the life I longed for six hours away. I vividly
recall the moment I knew it was time to leave this picture-perfect place behind.
We’d had a lovely outing enjoying one of the many family-friendly festivals in
downtown Franklin.
“This has been such a
wonderful day!” I exclaimed, watching the kiddos in the rear view mirror bop
each on the head with their balloons.
“It has,” Bryan
replied.
“We live in the most
precious town.”
“We do.”
I paused, watching a Tesla
drive by. We turned into the Starbucks drive through for a late afternoon
coffee break. Mercedes, Audi, and Lexus paraded through ahead of us. My mind
was shouting things I wouldn’t let my words say.
“It’s perfect,” I said
quietly.
“You say that a lot,”
Bryan eyed me suspiciously.
We were both thinking
the same thing. I knew we were. Why was it so difficult to say it aloud?
Because that makes it true, my mind answered, and if we acknowledge that we are
not where God wants us to be then we are left with the daunting task of
changing our circumstances. And that is something that takes courage. Courage…
I frowned. “This is
literally the cutest town I’ve ever seen. And we live here!”
“Uh huh,” Bryan nodded
for me to continue.
“We live in a place
most people dream about,” I motioned to our surroundings, “every store, every activity
I could possibly put my children in, every luxury imaginable, I should love
this place. I WANT to love this place,” and this was the moment of truth, the
moment I’d been avoiding and dying to say all at once. “I want to love it here.
But I don’t. I wish I wanted to live here, but I don’t. All I want is to move
back to the mountains and raise a family and serve my community and make a
difference there…that’s my home.”
“That’s OUR home,”
Bryan corrected me. And it was.
That was the moment we
decided to leave everything behind. In a whirlwind called the summer of 2014 we
decided to sell our home in Franklin, TN, leave behind a wonderful church,
fantastic neighborhood, sweet friends and countless other blessings to find
what God has in store for our family in the mountains of North Carolina. It was
the first move in the last seven years where the expenses were not covered by
Bryan’s company. It was the first move that made no sense in so many ways and
yet was more RIGHT than any other decision in recent history. I have a peace here that I haven’t felt in a long time. Peace that I am exactly where God wants me…and leaning fully into the life He has planned for me is the best place to be.
I traded my Starbucks for a million stars. I gave up the city lights…but the lightning bugs put on quite a display. I left a life of convenience for the life I felt convicted to live. Each sacrifice has been sweetened by the simple things I have gained.
Some say I left everything…I say I found it all.
I hope you have enjoyed the first post of my new blog, “A Handful of Rest.”
“Better a handful of rest than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind.” Ecclesiastes 4:6
Rest Well,
C
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