a walk of faith

Before I start this post, it's important to mention that just yesterday, I was doing some housekeeping on the blog format - and noticed that I had a load of unpublished comments awaiting my approval. Some of the comments were from a few days ago, and some went back several years, which was quite a shock!  

There once was a time - long, long ago, when our children took naps and went to bed before 11 PM - I would write prolifically.  That has really tapered off in recent years, and I rarely hear from people anymore.  Although,  I've tried to keep this space somewhat updated as a means of chronicling our lives, I didn't think very many people still read my jabberings.  

Seeing all of the comments yesterday has me both flattered and self-conscious.  While there are a few people I know that read it on the rare occasion I write (Hi Mom! Hi Mrs. Dunnigan!), I've begun equating my writing to singing in the shower.  You really belt it out when you're alone because you know no one is going to hear it.  Or, those that might hear it - love you enough to forgive your imperfections, or laugh when you're way off key.   

It was a really nice surprise to hear from so many people that have been reading this space since our children were babies. Thank you for reaching out to me! Now that I know where the comments awaiting approval are located, I promise I'll do a better job checking them.  (And work on my run-on sentences.)

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Charlie recently found this picture / meme which is such a perfect visual of our lives at the moment. Doesn't it actually look like the guy is dressed for Vermont?

La dee da da da .... I'm walking straight off a cliff! 

Whenever I find myself talking with strangers about how we happened to "land" here, it never fails to elicit a gasp, usually followed by an exclamation of how awesome and inspiring it is that we just took this huge leap of faith.  The fact is: this move and everything we've done over the past few months is all about faith. 

According to Hebrews 11:1, Faith is the confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen. It is the evidence of things we cannot yet see. 

We've got SO MUCH FAITH that things are going to work out positively for us in Vermont.  Although, I will admit, coming to this "place" has not been without a significant amount of second guessing and a couple full-blown panic attacks.  While I'd love to say that I've just embraced this whole experience with a heart full of peace and bliss, I'm nothing if not transparent and honest. 

There have been a few times over the past couple of months where I've started hyperventilating and from a nearly fetal position on the ground, asked, "Why are we here? WHY VERMONT? Why not warm South Carolina near my mom and Aunt Grace? We don't know anybody here! What have we done?! I gave up my stable and lucrative career, 4.5 years from retirement! We gave up our home and our community!  Winter is coming soon, we still have 250 boxes to unpack, I have no idea where my down jacket is .... and we're all going to freeze and perish!" 

We knew no one when we stopped dropped and rolled on the banks of Lake Champlain in late July.  No jobs. No home. No community. No, nothing except a hope and a prayer - and our beloved Airstream. 

Despite not having any roots here, we started sowing seeds, fast.  

As of this writing, we are dialed in with a church and bible study group, an orthodontist - dentist - doctors, a ladies cards group, two scout troops, two schools - and various sports teams. William and Elizabeth have both started part-time jobs, and I'll be starting a knitting group once we get settled in to our new home, which is scheduled to close on Friday.  

As in, this Friday ... Charlie's birthday.  

Aside from Charlie's part-time work, we do not yet have jobs.  There's a large part of me that cannot believe we bought a home without having steady employment - but we did.  Why?  Because it was a better financial investment than renting, we believe we are going to be here for a while (at least until the children graduate from high school!) and most importantly: we have faith. 

The confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen.   

The evidence of things we cannot yet see. 

A couple weeks ago, on a particularly challenging day, I stumbled upon the wisdom of 94-year old Catherine Ponder.  Catherine is a prosperity guru, predating Tony Robbins and Joel Osteen, and her message, in a nutshell, is that we need to turn the great energy of our thinking in to ideas of plenty.  

Rather than plague ourselves with negative thoughts, we instead need to open our minds to receive the universal abundance that is ours.  Some of her key points (I took notes from her nearly four hour 1972 conference on YouTube!) include:

- Things are getting better and better

- Get rid of what you don't want to make room for what you do want

- There must be a release of the old to make way for the new 

- We must let go of all worn out things: worn out conditions, worn out relationships

- Order must be established, we need to get things in "divine order" for channels to open

- We must believe that it is spiritually right to prosper and let go of any guilt

- Dynamic is dynamite: If you work your plan, it will blast us out of our own limitations 

- Get definitive in thoughts and actions, and vast improvement will come quickly to life

That last point is so powerful, I love it.  We must get definitive about what you want.

Ever since I've listened to this message, I have tried to be very intentional with my energy: my thoughts, my actions, my time. And I have been extremely grateful for all the blind steps that we've taken over the past 100 days on this journey, that have miraculously, time and time again, been met with solid ground.  

But I still need some help with being intentional. It turns out, I can be very easily distracted and sometimes have the mental capacity of a potato chip.  

Perhaps I need to take more naps and drink more water.  

Walking straight off a cliff in to a new life can be exhausting, and dehydrating.

there are no accidents

A week ago, Wednesday, Charlie and I were standing in the kitchen, the kids had just left for school, and we were sipping our coffee and tea, while waiting for the moving truck to arrive from Houston. In a few minutes, I was supposed to be heading out to a job interview in a nearby town.  

It was a big day for us. 

It had been nearly 19 weeks since we'd last seen our belongings and we were so excited at the prospect of sleeping in actual beds again.  Our possessions had been significantly truncated because we conveyed a lot with the sale of the house, and donated a lot more. But, we were filled with anticipation for our dining room table, beds, and clothes to arrive.  While we love our camping apparel - it's nice to not wear hiking pants and jeans every day.  

Perhaps once we had our own things again - we'd start to feel some semblance of normalcy.  And once I had a job interview and received some positive feedback, my self-confidence and feeling of value would be restored.  Interestingly enough - as much as I desperately want to find another role and get back in to the driver's seat as the mover and shaker I know that I am ... to the core of my being, I did not want to go to this interview. 

For whatever reason, I have had an overwhelming pull that I'm not ready.  Despite the fact that Charlie and / or I want and / or need to have a job soon so we can continue our benefits - and feed our children - on this particular day, I had a grim sense of foreboding about this interview.  And yet, I was mechanically going through all of the motions: taking a shower, getting dressed, finding my long-lost make-up and putting it on.  My mind had completely taken over and was propelling my body forward because this was something I surely needed to do to lessen the death grip of anxiety that had a hold of my heart for the past three months. Maybe things would lighten up and the feeling of relief would be palpable when a company recognized my superb talent and worth.  I was trying to pump myself up for the interview, Charlie was telling me to get in to the Wonder Woman Power Pose.  Nothing was helping.  My heart wasn't in it. But I grabbed my purse and keys and was preparing to walk out the door. 

Just before I got there, the phone rang.  

Charlie answered it.  An hour earlier, he had spoken with the truck driver who let him know she would be running two hours late because she'd had mechanical issues that forced her off the road until she could have her rig repaired.  From the look on his face, now, surely there was another problem with the moving truck. He was rubbing his head, and had grave concern in his eyes, with teeth clenched.  

What could it possibly be?  Please, not an accident!  My thoughts immediately went to the driver. Instead, it was the school nurse calling to tell us that Elizabeth had a serious accident at school and needed to be picked up and taken to the hospital, promptly.  They said she passed out while seated, and struck her head on the ground and was now very confused.  Charlie hung up and relayed the information to me, and I crumbled in to tears.  NOOOOOOOOO! Not my baby!     

The roller coaster that I hoped was almost over, made another rapid descent. 

Every imaginable fear flooded my brain with what precipitated this event and what would happen, next.  Pulling myself together, I called the company I was supposed to meet in 30 minutes, and told them I would be unable to make it. Then I drove to the school to get our daughter, while Charlie stayed home to meet the movers who would be pulling in to the neighborhood within an hour.  When they rolled Elizabeth out of the building in a wheelchair, she looked even worse than I expected. She had a bad cut above her eye and wounds on her face where she had landed when she pitched out of her chair.  Her eyes, full of tears, were so frightened. She did not understand what had happened - nor why it happened. 

Miracle of miracles, I didn't stumble when I saw my sweet girl, but tapped an inner strength that convinced my daughter, and myself, that All Would Be Well.   We just need to breathe deeply, keep our faith, pray for continued strength, and put one foot in front of the other.  SMILE.  Even if we're terrified, we'll fake it until we make it.  This is a really difficult season, but it will not last forever.  

For now, we need to figure out what is going on and be grateful that I still have phenomenal benefits through ExxonMobil. And so for the next eight hours, we'd be at the Emergency Room unraveling the details of what occurred and creating an extensive medical tab.

After a full day of waiting ... vitals checking ... IV line ... pain medication ... CT scans ... X-Rays ... and a referral to a pediatric neurologist, Elizabeth's memory started to come back and the awesome Emergency Room doctor formulated a theory that this was a totally freak accident.  

Elizabeth was in her AP Environmental Science class and the teacher was talking about soil and groundwater contamination.  Elizabeth, being the daughter of two scientists that have built their careers around soil and groundwater contamination - got so excited that she accidentally cracked her knee against a drawer at her table.  The pain was so intense, that it literally knocked her out.  She remembered hitting her knee, and seeing stars while thinking "Wow, that's kind of weird! I think I need to put my head down...." before waking up in the nurse's office.  

What she doesn't remember is fainting, pitching out of her chair, smashing her face on the ground which caused a concussion and seizure.  She also doesn't remember twisting her ankle so badly on the way down that it fractured.  She didn't remember the amazing EMT that works on the school staff who was by her side within two minutes of the incident and the room full of students, who all immediately stood up and graciously departed the room to protect her privacy.  She didn't remember how she got to the nurse's office, or her brother running in to check on her, and answer questions regarding how she arrived at school that day.  She vaguely, although fondly, remembers Carolyn showing up and rubbing her shoulder but didn't realize it was her sister.  She passed out a few more times, before I arrived and took her directly to the the UVM Medical Center. 

In between each of the procedures, phenomenal nurses and the attending doctor would stop by to talk with us and keep us apprised of the results.  They were virtually certain it was a fluke situation. But we'd need to follow-up with neurology and have an EEG performed, in order to confirm that there was no underlying issue that had yet to be identified. 

The best part of the day is that at the end of the day, my heart was so tender with gratitude: all of my chicks were safely back in the nest,  the school and hospital staff were extremely competent, kind, and compassionate; I tapped an inner strength to help me summit another hill on the roller coaster,  we still have excellent benefit coverage, the job interview was deferred until a later time when I am more fully prepared. And Elizabeth and I arrived home just in time to witness a spectacular sunset over the Adirondacks... 

And spy the movers carrying in her beloved bed.  

By way of an update, the EEG this past week, thankfully, was normal.

I'm convinced that the heart is never quite so tender and grateful as when you recognize the gifts in your life, count your blessings, and really grasp just how quickly things can change.  

Breathe deeply.  Keep your faith. Pray for continued strength.  Put one foot in front of the other.  Smile. And as much as possible, try to laugh.  

Seriously, you got so excited about groundwater contamination that you knocked yourself out? 

We just might have another hydrogeologist on our hands.