Its been a big week at the Walters ranch.
Last Saturday our oldest turned a whopping 14.
The week has been full of cleaning out, sorting, realtors in our home being interviewed, schoolwork getting done and preparing our home to be put on the market.
Then on Thursday I found myself standing in the office where I just dropped my work permit aged ready son for his first real job interview I set up for him. I saw I missed a call from my girls school and quickly listened to the message.
My heart sunk as I heard my daughters first grade teacher say that Lydia was complaining of a tummy ache and looked pale and sickly.
My oldest beckoned for my belief in him and respect as a young man. Courage to go out into the world without me and learn a new skill, interact in an office environment and make money to buy a real mountain bike. My youngest was crying out for me to drop every commitment I had and come get her.
When I arrived at her school the heavy metal door clicked behind me and I saw her face through the glass pale and the creases of her lips turned down. She looked lost. A tummy bug had hit her hard, or so I thought.
After greeting her, I signed her out and reached for her 6 year old hand which naturally held mine. I put her backpack on my back and opened the heavy door for her.
Thats what we parents do, isn't it?
Carry the heavy. Open the doors. Reach for hands and hearts and lead the way.
Worried she was really coming down with a tummy bug because of her pale face I began to ask her where she hurt the most & what she was feeling. And right there on the sidewalk under the metal underhang not 5 feet from the office where she was sitting poised and face heavy, my girl burst out in tears and a high pitched cry, "I don't want to move!" as she turned to face me and reach for my embrace.
O, dear Lord, she's not physically sick....she's processing and grieving our new reality.
We are moving.
The only home she has ever lived in is about to be put up for sale. The chatter she hears about painting and the bins of stuff to goodwill and the talk of finding a new home and making new friends is rattling her inner world and tho she has seemed positive about it and along for the ride on the outside, on the inside its a bit overwhelming and uncertain and today it all manifest in a tummy ache.
So, I stop my cowgirl boots right there in the middle of the concrete and hold my sobbing girl with only the chill air of silence speaking peace into us and the burst of emotion just longing to give birth in this little person.
And I wait quietly and let it all come out.
And I cry too.
Because although I waited 4 long days before Christmas of knowing the reality of our need to move and tried to process and get my tears out in my bedroom before I held theirs and felt ready to speak positive into the whole thing for them...the reality is, my tummy hurts also.
It hurts for the ripping of what I've sown in this little town. For the friendships made, the stories shared, the workout buddy I found, the music teachers we love, the home we've painted and remolded and danced to our delight in, the chicken coop my son built, the hours of frisbee and soccer and bonfires in the backyard. The daily sacred build up of the little things that really mean so much. The rock climbing kid amazing gym my boy loves, the basketball team my girl is crazy over, the summer swim team and kid whisper swim coach, the ballet teacher amazing athlete with a loving heart my girl is going to miss. The french bakery, the killer toy store, the festivals, the waterfall hikes we went on with ease out our backdoor like most folks go shopping.
The leaving of familiar and safe is never easy. The saying "Yes." to walk forward will always beckon courage.
But around every bend of a tummy ache is an opening of opportunity ahead, of growth. Jesus never said, "In this world you will have ease and comfort and certainty." Instead I hear, "Behold, I am with you always." And, "this is the way, walk in it."
And so I walk, one feeble step in front of another into the in-between time of knowing were moving but not yet. Of decisions to be made, a home to sell and a home to find. Friends to say goodbye to and new friends waiting to say hello to.
And I will allow myself to feel crappy as mud pie over it all as well as excited and hopeful and full of anticipation. And maybe even both in the same hour as a dear friend gave me permission this week and reminded me that I don't have to hold it together for all of us and in front of the kids. And I needed to hear that.
Because although I'm the Mommy here to lead the way, my tummy hurts a lot lately also sweet Lydia.
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