I made it pretty clear to my husband that I wasn’t in a place to discuss or even contemplate a move to the city, so he stopped bringing it up. In no way, however, did he stop thinking about it. He was constantly checking houses on Zillow, constantly job-hunting, constantly seeking out conversations with people at our church. He was respecting my wishes and not talking to me about it, but that resulted in me feeling left out of the majority of conversations and not sharing in his excitement. It was what I wanted and also not. (Just try being married to me for a day, folks. It’s not for the faint of heart.)

When the year began, we started hosting our weekly small group in our home. I was thankful to be serving the church in a new way, thankful to open our home each week to our friends, and thankful to feel surrounded by community in our current city. My husband felt it, too. There were families nearby who were also making the drive to church each week. We weren’t alone.

On more than one occasion, during our group prayer time, my husband shared feeling unsettled. When his business ended, he felt a strong desire to live, work, and go to church in the same community. At this point in his life, he was living in one city, working in another (about 2 hours away), and churching in a third. He was confused and frustrated by this. I knew this was his desire and his heart, but still ached at the thought of moving.

I really started to ponder my hesitations about moving.

Change is hard.
I love our home. Two of our children were born within its walls. 
I’m still hurting after quitting my job.
They don’t have SuperTarget in the city (do NOT discount this, y’all). 
My sister and other closest friends are nearby.
I don’t have to get on the highway to get the kids to school.
I hate change.
I hate change.
I want control, and the unknown reminds me that I don’t have it. 

All of those reasons are legitimate. All of those reasons are real and true and honest. I needed to share those reasons with my husband, let him hear my heart, let him speak and then actually listen- not just shut him down and say, “I’m not on the same page.” When we started having those conversations, I learned that moving to the city was no longer just a pipe-dream of his (he’s prone to those). He wasn’t looking to move into the (utterly impossible) million dollar homes that initially caught his eye and piqued his interest. He wasn’t looking to move into the city because that’s what everyone else was doing. He was slowly but surely initiating and building relationships with men in the church and longing for more and deeper friendships.

Once again, he was growing and changing into someone I barely recognized, and while these changes were good changes- he needs friends! He needs men in his life! He needs to hang out with people other than his (utterly awesome and amazing) wife! The changes left me feeling anxious and territorial and reeling at my lack of control.


One thought on “Sixty-two

  1. Pingback: Sixty-three | numbered days

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