January 7, 2013

running the race

I have a kind of secret joy watching the reactions we get when we tell people are moving to South America. Only adding to the humor is our own lack of reaction. "Are you so excited?!" Mmm… I'd be lying if I said I was truly excited. 

Among the plethora of emotions I'm experiencing, excitement isn't one of them. Yet. My emotions range from full-on fear - of the unknown, of the known, of the worst-case-scenarios that run through my mind as the devil prompts, to a weird, total and complete peace. Sometimes I have a self-righteous pride, knowing that is sounds really cool to say we're moving to South America… though that one is generally quickly smothered by the reality of how uncool it's really going to be - if we're looking at it on the cool scale, it ranks rather low - living in a teeny 1-bedroom "cottage" without consistent electricity, a water heater, beds and a constant supply of chai tea. In fact, every time I marvel at my own faith - faith like I've never experienced before - the thought that haunts me is that God isn't giving me a measure of faith for no reason… I'm about to enter very trying times and I'll need increased faith while I'm still on the easy side of this journey to carry me through the undoubtedly hard times to come. 

The "easy" side doesn't always seem so easy - trying to pack an entire house while my children follow behind unpacking. It's easy to forget that this is the "easy" part. Selling our belongings bit by bit is tedious and slow (why can't we be moving during yard sale season?). Yet still we plug away. A little here and a little there. Slow but stead wins the race, right? 

Nobody seems to want a hamster that bites. Funnily enough, people want a pet they can interact with. Poor little Curious George is still awaiting his fate. I have hopes of another child peering into his cage for hours on end. He seems to like children. Especially when they stick their fingers in the cage for him to nibble on. 

I'll try to be better about writing about our journey. Pinkie swear. 
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