There seem to be a lot of homeless/transients here, and I don’t know if there is actually a greater proportion than in other places I’ve lived, or if I just see them more now because we are living in a more urban/city area.  In any event, I get asked for money on an almost daily basis, and I have been wondering if I should start carrying small amounts of cash to hand out, or if that would just be “enabling.”  My sister used to take food to the park to hand out, but had a bad experience with a man screaming in her face, “What do I look like, a junkyard dog?!” Now she just volunteers at the Rescue Mission.  I think I may just start buying grocery store gift cards to keep on hand. 

Back to the story.  We stopped to speak with these guys, and they informed us it was K’s 44th birthday.  He confessed that he was honestly just looking to score some liquor, so he could black out for his birthday.  “Tomorrow,” he said, “I am turning myself in.”  To detox.  He explained that it is time, that he loves his woman very much, and he wanted to get clean for her.  But that was tomorrow.  Tonight, all he could think about was blacking out.  His knee was bandaged, and he said it was from getting shot by a cop.  He had gotten into an altercation with someone who pulled a knife on him, and then a cop shot him in the knee.  I’m not entirely sure that cops can just go around shooting random people, but they swore to us that because they are transients the cops can and will do whatever they please with them, because nobody cares.  It could be true.  Over the course of the next hour, K told us what I believe to be many tall tales, and they almost always followed something F told us, as if he felt the need to “one-up” everything he said.

As for F, Adam and I both really enjoyed talking to him.  He was quite a bit younger than K; younger than us, in fact.  He was only 27 years old, and had been “hopping trains,” for 14 years, so since he was just 13 years old.  Originally from L.A., he has been all across the country, and he seems to enjoy his self-proclaimed “hobo life.”  He’s got wanderlust, he says, and he can’t ever see himself staying in one place too long.  He works from place to place, and jumps the train to another city when he wants to move on.  He said he loves the South, particularly Dothan, Alabama, where they always treat him real well.  He gets regular work there, and never goes hungry, because people will pick him up and take him home with them. 

He told the story of an elderly couple, in their 70s, who routinely welcome him (and his various hobo buddies) into their home and feed them, visit with them.  He asked the old man why, in their frail and fragile state, do they invite a bunch of rough looking, pierced and tattooed hobos into their home, when they could easily be robbed or hurt.  The man replied, “Because we trust the Lord to protect us.”  That’s a pretty bold faith, because I’m not sure that I would invite those men into my home, in fact I know I probably would not. 

I sure did enjoy our chat, though, and F informed us that he doesn’t mind at all when people do not have cash to give, so long as they look him in the eye or smile.  “Just acknowledge that I exist.”  His statement echoed the sentiments I heard in a documentary on homelessness that we watched at Stretch a year or so ago. 

As we walked away, Adam and I started talking about what we could possibly do to brighten their day.  I felt bad that it was K’s birthday, and while I wasn’t going to get him his liquor, I knew I could walk across the street and get him some birthday cake.  It was Whole Foods that is across the street, and guess what–no birthday cake.  But we got them some (vegan, ha) banana split cupcakes, candles to put on top, brownies, a sandwich for each of them, a few vitamin waters, Cliff bars, a box of chocolate chip cookies, and my favorite–jalapeno cilantro hummus and pita chips. which I hope they enjoyed.  It was a birthday lunch that was fit for two kings… or at least two guys who probably weren’t going to eat lunch otherwise. 

The whole time we were in there we kept thinking/saying, “We’ve got to hurry, they might leave!”  But no, they were still out there when we walked back across the street and delivered our two bags of lunch, which they received with thanks and smiles, and K gave us a hug. 

As we left the second time, I felt bad that I didn’t exactly share the gospel, especially when F basically gave us an opening with his stories from the South, but hey, I chickened out.  I still felt like we shared the gospel in a different way, though, by sharing food and sharing our time.  Or at least that is what I tell myself.

I hope they felt love while we visited, and I hope they enjoyed their food.  Realistically, I am not able to do that for everyone who begs change, but I will be able to look them in the eye and acknowledge their existence.  I will let them know that I see them, I hear them. 

(The view this–and every–morning.)

Finished my work this morning at 7:00 and it actually appears as though I don’t have anything else on my plate for today.  PHEW!  I’ve been more than a little burnt out lately, and plagued by technical difficulties, so it will be nice to have a beautiful day off to breathe a bit.  I’ve been applying for other positions–work outside the home positions–and I have my fingers and toes crossed that maybe something will present itself as an opportunity.  There is one job in particular that has amazing benefits (on-site gym and on-site free health clinic and child care, whaaat), and I have heard nothing but great things, that it is one of the best employers in the city/state, so we’ll see.  Being that it is so competitive, I’m not sure that I will even get a call, but I thought it was at least worth trying for.  I could even walk to work, weather permitting.

As has been the routine for the past several years, I find myself very bored and apathetic with my current work situation.  I will be the first to admit: when the work is available, it is great.  I can work in pajamas, or whenever I want, and the money is good, and there is no commute, I could go on and on with the positives. 

But… it’s not very challenging, and while many times I’ll get an interesting assignment that holds my interest, the majority of time the subject matter is boring, and I have to deal with all my self-employment tax and all of that mumbo jumbo, and some (most) days it just doesn’t feel worth it.  And the biggest downsides: no benefits, and the fact that when the work isn’t there, it isn’t there.  Nothing.  Nada.  That fear causes me to work like a crazy woman (60-70 hrs a week lately) when the work IS available, which makes the days fly by (good) but which also makes life an exhausting blur (bad).  I find myself very enslaved by the work because I feel pressured to take everything that is offered to me.  I think of it like someone is waving X amount of dollars in my face, and if I don’t take it, I feel guilty or like I missed out on an opportunity.  Which gives the $ way too much power over my life, which is exactly the opposite of the lessons I have learned or the way I want to really live my life.

But I get these crazy ideas in my head like, IF the work keeps up, and if I work hard, if we could survive like this for 3 years, we could pay cash for a house.  That would be insane and amazingly awesome.  Financial freedom!  Then I wouldn’t have to work if I didn’t want to, and I could be a mom, and we could be free to give so much more, and alllllllllllll my dreams will finally come true.  HA!  Yeah, right.  That would be a whole different kind of difficult.  (But, still, something that I have always wanted.) 

Life is just weird.  Great and weird and hard and weird and awesome and weird.  So many choices, and also so many circumstances that we don’t get a choice in at all.  I’m constantly evaluating/re-evaluating my steps and my work, and “maybe I should be doing something else” but I never know what… each day I just try to do the best that I can, and make the best decisions that I can, and hope that that is good enough. 

I don’t know why this is the job I have, the job I stumbled into when I was 17 years old… I get paid to type, and that is a blessing in itself.  I remember thinking, many years ago, that it was like getting paid to breathe.  It is a skill that comes naturally to me, and I’m glad to have it.

But… it isn’t my dream.  I don’t honestly even know what my dream is anymore.  I think that’s my biggest problem.  I’m burnt out, but I can’t work TOWARDS anything different, if I don’t have an end goal. 

And now, I have to wrap this up, because… work just called.  So much for the day off, eh?  Back to the hamster wheel!   

I’m happy to report that we managed to go 31 days in between gas fill-ups in the car, and that was with several trips down to Draper to IKEA and the soccer stadium.  We plan on taking TRAX to the games from now on, so that should definitely help.  I guess in some ways, moving out here was sort of like giving ourselves a raise, because Adam used to fill up every 10 days or so.  They’ve also begun laying the rails for the trolley/street car that will serve our neighborhood, and I am so excited for that.  That will connect us to the main TRAX system and we will be able to walk or use public transportation for probably 90% of our travels.

I can’t stress enough how much we love our apartment, and how it is such a good fit.  It is so quiet, we never hear our neighbors, except the occasional door opening/closing across the hall.  We get so much light and fresh air, and I guess all of these things could kind of be taken for granted, if not for the apartment that Adam used to have.  It was a dark little hole and we could literally hear the neighbor upstairs use the bathroom, and other private activities. We don’t hear anything now, and we really feel like we have a great little space all to ourselves.  And we have an extra room AND a (surprisingly comfy) sleeper sofa, so I can’t wait for people to come visit us. 

We’ve only had 2 1/2 cloudy days, one day of rain, in the whole time we’ve been here, which definitely reaffirms my previously held belief that May in Salt Lake is PERFECT.  Every time I visited here in May, I always fell in love with the place all over again, although my sister is quick to remind me that it is perfectly unpredictable, as well.  It snowed here in June last year.  Not a major snow event by any means, but still.  Snowflakes.  In June.  So, anything can happen.  I will just keep enjoying my sunshine until then.

The hike we went on yesterday was definitely a challenging one, for me.  Adam is a human mountain goat, so he was hopping, skipping, and jumping from one boulder to another, always having to wait on me.  I wanted to give up, several times, but as always, Adam encouraged me and convinced me to carry on.  We traveled four miles round-trip and climbed (and then descended) 3,000 ft in elevation.  It might not seem like much, but it was basically like climbing stairs for 2.5-3 hours.  The scenery, however, was beautiful, and that definitely helped.  We basically followed a rushing river all the way up the mountain, and the birds were out and singing their songs–when we broke away from the river long enough to hear them.  The waterfall at the top was amazing, and definitely worth the climb.  Then it was down, down, down, which I always find the most difficult part of a hike, especially in areas of loose rocks/sand.  Adam (of course) found me a perfect hiking stick at the top, which I used all the way down, and then took home with us, because it is just the right size for me and helped so much.  (Adam also filled his cargo pockets with litter that he found on the way up and way down.  We both get ticked when we see litter on the trails, so since he had the room to pack stuff out, that’s what he did. Of course, my heart swelled with love. ) 

We saw at least 6 people hiking in Vibrams, and it had never occurred to me that they could/would be used for hiking, but it makes perfect sense.  What better way to get a grip on the rocks and trail than by being almost barefoot?  We also saw several people hiking in sandals/flip flops, and I honestly have no idea how those people made it back down.  Crazy. 

All in all, the first 5 weeks have been great.  I still miss Nashville, sometimes acutely so.  But I really love it here.  I love the life we can have here, the opportunities for adventure/exploring, the ability to cut down our fuel consumption, and the general love for the outdoors shared by so many here.  Salt Lake is so unlike so many “Utah” stereotypes, shattering even my own previously-held beliefs about the state, and VERY different from the small Southern Utah town where I went to high school.  Although you can find stores that sell temple garments and pioneer clothing, more often than not you are confronted with the very liberal and “SLC punk” sides of the city, and it all mashes together to create a very interesting kaleidoscope of humanity.  

I’m having fun, enjoying time with family, and exploring this new place.  I keep thinking about how sad we were (still are, really) about the sale of our little company that we worked for, to the BigFish, but had that not happened, we wouldn’t be here today.  It was a “moment of impact” (to steal a line from The Vow), and it’s hard to really say if life is “better” or “worse” but I do know that it is “different” and different is good.  I’m so happy to experience new places and new things, and I’m thankful for the path my life has taken the past few years.  Sometimes you just have to GO, say yes to things that scare you, and pursue something crazy. 

So far, all this crazy has paid off in spades.  (Whatever that even means.)  I just know it means I fall asleep content (and exhausted), and wake up excited to begin a new day.  That’s always a good thing. 

So, two weeks ago today, we made a handful of trips to the Goodwill drive through, cleaned up Adam’s apartment, and turned in his keys, grabbed a quick dinner at Jersey Mike’s Subs and had our last Sweet Cece’s fro-yo for a while.  As we left Nashville, I snapped this:

Not a great picture, but at least the moment was captured.  It was GOODBYE beautiful city, and hello long, long road trip.

We were originally going to stop for the night in St. Louis, but when we couldn’t find any hotels available (the NRA was in town… apparently ALL of them), we pressed on, and it is a good thing we did, because we had severe storms and tornado warnings chasing right behind us all night and day through Missouri and Nebraska.  One thing is for sure, we experienced every form and fashion of weather along the way:

After a harrowing last few hours through Wyoming and dropping down into the Utah valley through whiteout conditions, we made it safely to my sister’s house, and had completed our trip in 27.5 hours and for less than $250 dollars total (fuel + food).  We got amazingly good gas mileage, considering how weighed down the car was.  So, that was a bright point for sure.

We slept most of Sunday, our first real day in town, and then tagged along with my sister, her awesome fiance, and their photographer friend while they did their engagement sessions out at Antelope Island State Park.  It’s an island out in the middle of the Great Salt Lake, and as it turns out, it is pretty dang cool:

(Buffalo)

(Getting pictures taken.)

The next week (last week) we got the okay to move into our new place.  We hadn’t actually looked at this building when we were here in March, but knew the neighborhood, although I was still a little nervous to pick a place sight unseen.  We found out that they were installing new flooring the day before our move-in, and when we first walked in the door, I knew I was going to like this new place.

We set up our office in the converted balcony, in front of all that great light.  It took us until 3:00 a.m. Thursday morning, but we were ready for business.

We also did some furniture shopping and picked out this living room set, complete with sleeper sofa:

Friday we celebrated our first SLC weekend with my brother and his wife eating probably the best pizza I’ve ever had at The Pie, followed by an amazing half-baked chocolate cookie topped with ice cream, and our first trip to Epic Brewery.

Saturday was the Wine and Cheese Party at my sister’s house, and I was reminded of 2 of the big reasons for this relocation:

So far, I am/we are enjoying this move.  I think it will prove to be a good one.  We’ve got almost everything within walking distance of the apartment, and great public transportation beyond that.  Our building has a recycling program, raised bed veggie gardens (which I have yet to check out) and even: a rubbish cute in the hallway!

Our building is wonderful (so far), quiet (two feet of concrete between floors will do that for you), and filled with many interesting and diverse neighbors, aged early 20s to the oldest at 93.

We get to enjoy views like this from our windows:

And, we even found our new duck pond, which is a short five-minute walk out our front door:

Last night we did have a bit of a scare when we got our first hard wind/rainstorm and realized that our huge window was leaking rain all over the new floor.  Management came out right away (at almost 11:00 p.m.), brought extra towels, the rain stopped, and today we were even given a bunch of quarters to wash our wet towels with.  The window company is coming out next week to take measurements for a brand new window, so that will soon be fixed and taken care of.  Very thankful for that!

Everything is coming together, little bit by little bit.  We are mostly settled in our new place, and many new adventures await.  Tomorrow, I think we’ll be checking out some consignment stores, in search of the perfect green coffee table, and maybe even a dining set, if we find something cool.

I still miss my Nashville life, of course, but I know this will become home more and more each day.  I’m very excited for this upcoming summer, and I hope that sometime soon we will get to host people here in our new place, and show all of our friends just how cool the West can be.

“Not all boys are stupid,” he said.  I looked at him, in his pinstripe dress shorts, St. Patrick’s Day shirt, and his cute little Gatsby Cap, and I had to admit that he was right.  I had seen it.  My brother is one of the best guys I know.  My friend Josh, another.

The next week, as I was getting ready to take my lunch, he poked his head around my cubicle and asked, “Do you mind if I come to the duck pond with you?”  Ah, the duck pond.  Just down the hill from our office was this, well, duck pond, for lack of a better descriptor.  A big pond with a fountain, lots of ducks and geese, and a walking path around it.  I had been taking my lunch there for the past month or so, just to get out of the office and get some fresh air.

So, on this particular Monday, Adam went with me.  And we talked as we made laps around the pond, and he protected me from the angry geese.  We did the same for the next two days.  I noticed that all he ate for lunch was a Cliff Bar, so I “accidentally” ordered an extra Soft Taco Supreme to share.

On Wednesday, as we were walking back into the office he asked, “What are you doing tonight?”  It was Wednesday.  I was doing… nothing.  He asked if I would be interested in going on a date with him that evening, and since I already admitted I didn’t have any plans (tricky, that one!) I agreed, and he said he would think of something and get back to me before the end of the day.  I walked back to my desk a little bit stunned/amused, and texted my roommate.

I think I have a date tonight?

He took me to the Nashville Zoo.  I had never been, and admittedly, that was the most fun I have ever had on a date.  We got there at about 4:00, the zoo was only open for another two hours, and by that time nearly everyone had gone home.  We basically had the whole place to ourselves.  As we were leaving, it started raining, and when we walked out into the parking lot, a giant rainbow appeared in the sky.  It was definitely a cool moment.  Adam then asked if I’d like to join him for dinner at our Irish pub, and of course I said yes.  “I get the zoo AND dinner?!?”  (I was a little surprised, because going to the zoo isn’t cheap.  But apparently he wasn’t about to be cheap, either.)

That first date ended up lasting about seven hours, and as much as I told myself to go SLOWWW and proceed with caution, and not rush into anything, we pretty much skipped over casual dating to Relationship Status (Facebook Official!) in just a few weeks.

The more I got to know him, the more I really grew to like (and love) him, and develop a huge level of respect for him.  He has every reason or excuse in this world to be bitter, broken, messed up, and mad at the world.  And yet, he has one of the most open and childlike hearts I’ve ever known.  He is enthusiastic about life and he enjoys–and revels in–the simple things.  He treats me like I am the most amazing woman on this planet, and tells me often that I am.  He doesn’t allow me to speak negatively about myself, much less ever say anything negative to me himself.  He is constantly trying to “check up” on me, to make sure I have everything I need at all times.  (Bringing water to me at my desk, getting a blanket for me when we’re watching TV on the couch, etc.)  I guess the best way to describe it is he is better at anticipating my needs than I am.  He will do whatever it takes (and sometimes that is a lot, on a bad day) to make me smile.

Every night before he goes to sleep, he fluffs my pillow, even though he knows I will probably never use it (I usually work nights).  In an entire year of dating, I have never (not once) had to put the toilet seat down.  (I know that is such a little annoyance, but still.)  When we went out to dinner last week and our biscuits were brought to the table, he got little pats of putter out of the dish and set them in front of my plate first, before helping himself.  Such a teeny, tiny insignificant gesture that most people would not even notice, but to me–it means the world.  I thank him for taking such good care of me, and his reply is always, “I try.”

That’s it, right there.  He tries.  He cares.  It’s amazing what a difference that can make in a relationship, this “caring.”  He is always serving me first, and I try to do the same for him.  That is how it works, right?  We are nerds–and nerdy–together, and it works.  We made a “J” (For his last name) that hangs on a post-it next to the door, that we tap on the way out of the apartment (a la “Friday Night Lights” locker room style).  We frequently indulge in a ritual known as “Snuggleupagus,” which is, simply, snuggle time on the couch.

There isn’t really any part of my life that has gone “to plan,” including this.  I didn’t plan on falling in love with this man, but I did.  Despite my best defenses, and some pretty major emotional roadblocks, and a lot of baggage/hurt I am still working on, that he’s loving me through.

I still have fears, and I still have doubts.  I still worry that one day he will give up on me, too.  That one day he will start slamming doors in my face and will take pleasure in making me cry.  Or I worry that the “newness” will wear off and we’ll just become roommates, and maybe we will.  But I know he’s a fighter.  I trust that, no matter what, he would fight for me–for us.  He and I believe in US, in equal measures.  Neither one of us is over-invested or under-invested, we’re both in.  Together.  A real team.  Whenever I try to drag a reality or concern from my past into our present, he reminds me: This is a new book.  This is OUR book.  Our story.  Our life, together.

It’s scary to make yourself vulnerable in that way, I think, for everyone.  Because we have all been hurt.  We’ve pretty much all had our hearts trampled, and we’ve done our share of trampling as well.  But we still get that choice.  That’s the beauty of this life: Freedom to choose.   We can choose to try.  To believe.  To surrender.  We can pick forgiveness or bitterness.  Accept love or reject love.  To extend grace, or offer judgment.   Smile or frown.  Keep fighting or give up.  Take a risk or stay comfortable.  Chase the unknown or be ruled by fear.

I think I tried pretty hard at times to scare Adam away, with all of my ugliness.  All of my junk that I paraded around in front of him, as if to say: “Let me save you the time: you don’t want this.  You don’t want me.”  And he just kept moving forward, through it all.  He kept loving me.  And gosh, that’s annoying sometimes!  But I got to annoy him right back by doing the same for him.  Loving him through his mess.  And at the end of the day, it isn’t annoying, it’s freeing.

Love is action.  And no, not all boys are stupid.  Thankfully.

We had a great time on our vacation in Utah, and it pretty much confirmed what I already suspected: After 12 years gone from the Beehive State, I will once again be living there.   And Adam is going with me, because he is either crazy about me, or just plain crazy.  I will not believe it until we are actually there, and moved in, and going to sleep there and waking up there for more days than a vacation, but it is officially happening.  In 16 days.  My feelings about this move are so, so mixed, but I do feel this is the Right Thing and that my 2 years in Nashville have served their purpose in this season of my life.  It has been so healing, and so beautiful, and so restorative.  I could not have gotten plugged into a better or more loving body of believers, and I LOVE how they love God, by loving each other, this city, and the world.   If I think about it too hard and for too long, I will never budge or move forward at all.  I love this place and it is safe and comfortable to me.  I love the hills, I love the music, I love the city through and through, and most of all: the people.  I love that everyone waves and smiles when I am out walking or running.  The South is a special place.

One of my friends had expressed concern that by moving back to Utah that I was somehow “settling,” I think because of something I said months/years ago, and it really did make me think a good bit.  Here’s what I have concluded on all of that:  Had I gone back to Utah at the end of 2009/beginning of 2010, THAT would have been settling.  It would have been the “scared” thing to do, run home to my family and the friends I have that still live there, and lick my wounds and just… be.  Instead, I prayed and sought God like a crazy woman, hanging to the last tattered threads of the end of my rope, and I believed Him for MORE.  So when “NASHVILLE” was pressed upon my heart, I listened.  It was, and is still, the strangest and scariest and craziest thing I have done in my life.  Move to a city I had never been/did not know a soul?  REALLY?  I am not being facetious when I say that on this day, these two years later, I am still SHOCKED, utterly and completely surprised that I did that.  It was very, very unlike me.

But I opened my heart and my mind and my eyes to possibility, held out my empty arms, and they were filled to overflowing with blessings here.  Has it all been smooth sailing?  Oh, heck no!  When all my work mysteriously dried up and I had that famous (now, to me) $8 dollars in my bank account, when I skated by for several months thanks to the generosity of my grandparents, and the open hands of my very best friends here–that was a difficulty and a humbling that I had never previously faced.  It broke me and it built me.  I can forever testify to God’s great love, His healing, and His provision.  Over and over and over again He has allowed me to trade my deepest sorrows for the greatest joy, the deepest peace, and I pray that it is written so profoundly on my heart, that my heart will not forget.

And now, two years later, I am brought to another fork in the road.  It’s not that I WANT to leave Nashville, but if I stay here, I will miss out on really being a part of my family for more years and years to come.  And right now is just a good time to go, I am (we are) free and able to do so, there’s been some changes in job situations, and a lease is ending, and my sister is getting married this summer, and… and and and and.  I miss my sister.  I miss my brother.  I want to know these people better that they have married/are about to marry.  I want to know their kids, and God willing, someday, I want my kids to know their cousins.  Daily.  Weekly.  Monthly.  Not “once-every-couple-years-on-vacation-ly.”  Honestly, I could probably blame the NBC show, “Parenthood.”  They do life together, and they make it look so lovely.  Even the messy, hard parts.  ESPECIALLY the messy, hard parts.  So yeah, between that show and getting together with my family for my grandpa’s funeral last October, that is what has brought me to this point.

It’s not settling, it’s doing exactly what I did two years ago, exactly what landed me here.  It’s me believing and trusting God for MORE.  It’s me opening my arms and welcoming the blessing of my family back into my life, after 12 years away.  It’s me facing some of my more dysfunctional familial relationships head on and embracing them, and trusting God to (over time) mend the pieces that have been broken, instead of just running all of the time.  I know now, more than ever, that He WILL and DOES restore “what the locusts have eaten.”

This is just the next chapter in my Choose My Own Adventure Life.

This is me, leaping fearlessly.

This is me, daring to love.

There is no other (best) way to do this life.

Yesterday I talked to my dad, and he mentioned something about my birthday, and how we should celebrate it while we’re all together.  And then he did the unthinkable and said we COULD celebrate it all together.  As in: me, Adam, my dad, my mom, and my mom’s husband.  Whoa.  It has only taken NINE years for this day to come, but alas, it might actually be happening. That would be a nice birthday present. 

My dad is going to be doing some improvements on his townhome this summer and I’m really (overly) excited at the idea of maybe being there to help him.  I like to paint.  It’s such a normal thing do to–help your dad work on his house, or vice versa, but we’ve never been able to do anything like that together.  So, that’s nice. 

Maybe it is Pinterest wearing off on me (though I’m totally out of the Pinterest loop lately), but I am really looking forward to making a bunch of stuff with my own hands.  I was super excited about building the Tiny House, although that might not come to fruition now (long story, but it would probably make more sense to save money to build/buy a permanent–small–structure at this point in life).  If I were 20 instead of 30, I’d do it for sure.  But I just feel like it’s probably important to end up in a house not on wheels in this decade, if I ever want to think about having/adopting any kids. I am still very determined to do it with as little of a loan/mortgage as possible, maybe building with shipping containers?  I don’t know.  Something to figure out in the distant future.

Anyway.  I got the idea yesterday that I’d really like to build a platform for a bed someday, when settled and it is time to buy a bed.  Just get a mattress and then build a box platform with drawers in it.  Instant storage.  Or, just skip the drawers and utilize the under-platform space as storage with bins and such.  We’ll see.  I’ve just got all of these ideas in my head lately for how I want to set up a house/apartment, in a place where I’m actually going to stay for more than six months.  Since the end of 2009 I have moved: after 4 months, after 10 months, after 6 months, and (if we move in May) after 6 months. 

I just feel so home-y lately.  I really love to cook (although do not so much love meal planning), and I have been enjoying trying new things, and it makes me happy that I have aprons to wear and just the satisfaction that comes from making a good meal.  My mom was asking yesterday if there are any foods that Adam doesn’t like/is allergic to, and I had to laugh.  I told her no, he eats everything, even if it is something he doesn’t like, and then tells you it was the best, most delicious meal ever.  It’s very confusing to me, because I am sure there are things I’ve made that he’s not crazy about, but he just pretends that I’m such a great cook.  Very hard to know what he ACTUALLY likes and what he is just being nice about. 

Okay… I guess that is enough brain-leaking for today.  Lots to do today, starting with several large loads of laundry (we’ve waited two weeks this time to go to the laundromat–eek), and I really want to go for a run today.  I have not ran in almost a YEAR.  A year.  And it shows.  I am in pathetic shape and I am really tired of it.  So, baby steps forward once again. 

The birds are singing the sun awake on this beautiful morning, and naturally I’ve been consumed by thought, running a sprint marathon around the track inside my head. 

I miss Nashville.  I miss Nashville and I’m not even gone yet.  I miss the community I found here, and the home that felt like no home I’d ever known before.  I miss people.  I miss friends.  And yet, I miss my family, too.  That’s a lot of what is going into this decision to move back to Utah.  After 12 years away (!!!!), it feels like it’s time to go home.  So I can be near my siblings and be an active part in their lives & their (future) kids’ lives.  So they can be a part of mine.  

But I have to know for sure:  Is it His time or My time? 

God did something amazing when He led me here to this crazy beautiful town, this place I had never even seen with my eyes, before He told me to GO.  In 2010, God showed me His love, provision, and redemption, in a way that will impact my life for the rest of my days.  

And then life got busy.  God was still providing–when I had no money, He made apparent to me all the people in my life that are walking around as his hands and feet.  And, after several months of no work, He provided a new job.  Which, incidentally, I began exactly a year ago today. 

As for the past 365 wake ups?  This past year has been a BLUR.  I’ve been so busy and so disconnected.  At first it was just because of the work/exhaustion/bad schedule cycle, but the past few months (well, since October), it’s been ALL of that, plus just trying to leave here as quietly and painlessly as possible.  Exit stage left as the real show happens under the spotlight in center stage. 

Y’all.  I’m REALLY good at disappearing.  Now and always.  But what I’m also really good at is over-thinking.  It is very highly possible that this season is over, and so I’m just dealing with the grieving of that.  Change is hard.  I don’t like it.  There aren’t many of us who do, I’d imagine.

Lately when I’m at church I’ve found myself trying to make a mental bookmark, take a picture not just on Instagram, but with my heart.  I did the same thing at The Ryman on Thursday night.  I breathed in all that energy and history and the wonderful smell of old wood and music, and I tucked it away someplace safe, so that I can take it out someday and smile.

Wednesday night Adam and I are getting on a plane to Utah (well, technically Las Vegas) and my mom is going to drive down from St. George and pick us up.  And then we’re going to spend the next 9 days resting and NOT WORKING, figuring out the What Next of life. 

I am going to be praying like crazy.  If Nashville chapter is done, it’s done.  It will be so hard to leave, but it will be right.  Just like leaving my cozy little nest in Illinois was so hard… but so right.  I had four months there, and hopped out of that nest when I believed I could fly again.  And now, I’ve had two years here, in which I’ve healed and grown and had so many crazy adventures, and so much laughter and so much joy.  

So maybe it is time to fly away home.  Even though a part of my brain is screaming.  Utah is NOT Nashville.  But I’m also not the same person I was when I was 19 and couldn’t put that place in my rear view fast enough.  The same God that lives in my heart, who is Alive in Nashville, is the same God who is alive in Utah, and is the same God who will keep ME alive in Utah.  I have a long and complicated history with that place.   

I still don’t know how I will ever say Thank You to Nashville, though.  Aside from naming my first son Nash and getting a Batman Building tattoo.  (Oh, you think I’m kidding.) 

I recently signed up for a Mint account, loaded in all of my savings/checking/credit info and BAM, it pulled all of my transactions into one neat little column.  Then I was able to categorize everything appropriately and really get a good picture of my finances.  I also made a bunch of other interesting realizations.  Like how the last time I purchased clothing was on November 26th.  And that clothing wasn’t even for me.  It was a quick run to Target to get Adam a new outfit for a wedding we were attending. 

According to Mint, the “average” clothing budget per month is over $200.  Really???  Maybe that is the U.S. average for families or something, because if one person really spent $200/mo on clothes, wouldn’t they run out of closet space?  Or is this why closets are such a big deal on all of the house hunting shows? Regardless, I am well aware that I am totally below the norm on this one.  I don’t like to go shopping.  I don’t have 50 pairs of shoes.  I have 5.  The last outfit I purchased was a year ago, for my job interview.  The last time I bought jeans, I bought them at Goodwill for $7.  They are my favorite jeans I’ve ever owned.  They’re GAP and they were perfectly broken in.  

I think in a lot of ways, the past few years have broken me.  The Divorce, moving to Nashville, re-defining my sense of security, and taking a good hard look at how blessed I am (in comparison to the rest of the world), all of these things have resulted in a fundamental shift in how I view myself and the world (and my finances).  The hardest season of my life–paring my “stuff” down to what fit into my car, living with the reality of $8 in my checking account–has, in turn, produced a huge heart change, and I am so thankful for it. 

I look around and I see a world (or at least a nation) of people gone mad.  We’re consumers consumed with consuming.  It’s insanity.  Although on the flip side, I realize that my little life, to many, is the insane one.  I truly do live a tiny life these days.  I don’t even own a car.  I work from home.  (So that right there eliminates the need for a “work” wardrobe.)  If I’m with friends, I am the least well-dressed one there, by far.  T-shirt and jeans, sweatshirt and jeans, or if I’m feeling FANCY, blouse/jeans or sweater/jeans.  Or cords!  I do have a pair of corduroy pants.

I just. don’t. care. anymore.  Don’t get me wrong–I don’t want to embarrass YOU, my friend, if we are out.  I don’t want you to be ashamed to be seen with me.  I will still be bathed and my clothes will match, don’t you worry.  But in my heart?  I just really don’t care all that much anymore about what it is that is covering my skin.  Life is more than clothes.  

I didn’t always feel this way, though.  I used to subscribe heavily to “retail therapy.”  Heavily.  Once when I got dumped, I drove straight to the mall and spent $400 at The Buckle.  New Doc Martens, check.  New Lucky Jeans, check.  New watch, check.  A bunch of other stuff I didn’t really need, but I was “treating myself” to… check!  I was 19, and the store literally had to CALL MY BANK before they would process my transaction.  I was working full-time and had more than that in my account, so it was approved, and away I went… arms full of bags, heart full of (temporary) satisfaction. 

It’s a sad and scary thing, when you realize the Power of Stuff.  Back in the day, I used to get my hair cut at this really snobby salon in Perrysburg.  A cut and color would run me about $120, and I was doing that about every six weeks for a while.  Then, I’d leave the salon and go to the mall and get a new outfit.  A new haircut and a new outfit = a whole new, happy me.  I was a new woman! 

Except I wasn’t.  The new haircut never looked as good after a day or two, and the new clothes were “old clothes” after a few weeks, and the “new car smell” of life quickly faded, and I was left with the truth: my heart was sad.  I had no joy.  I had no peace.  My self-esteem and self-worth was non-existent.   

Today, my heart is happy and at peace.  I know my worth.  I am anchored by love, on all sides.  Now it’s time for me to implement a little bit of discipline and build on my new foundation.  I need to meet with a financial advisor and get all of my business/tax stuff figured out, and pursue a long-term goal.  My attitude in the past with money was always, “I’ll worry about that when I actually have some.”  I’ve almost always been one step behind, always catching up.  But I can’t keep waiting for “someday,” I can’t keep waiting for my big break or a windfall of cash to fall from the sky.  I am working so hard, right now, and now I am taking a good hard look at where every single penny goes. 

I’ve spent the last year living very much with an “open hands” policy with what I’ve been entrusted with, and how I give, and I fully intend to continue to build my life around this truth:  It’s not mine.  It never was.  I don’t expect your story or his story or her story to look like my story.  We are each blessed with this one beautiful life, and we each have the freedom to choose whatever and whomever we want.  I just know that for me, I need to be very careful to be faithful with the little that I have right now, or I could never trust myself to be faithful with any more.  And I know that the longer I travel this road, the more I learn over and over that simple is good.  It’s not easy; not at first.  In fact, it’s been downright painful.  But is it worth it?  Absolutely. 

• It’s been cloudy and raining here so much lately, I feel like I live in the Pacific Northwest.  It even tried to snow over the weekend, but fortunately it didn’t stick.
• I set a new record this week and typed for over 24 hours straight (minus food and bathroom breaks).  I don’t think I will try that again for a while, as the muscles in my forearms are now incredibly sore, all the way up to my elbows.
• ONE WEEK UNTIL VACATION!!  Adam and I have both been working ourselves weary… he to the point of an ER visit last week, and I haven’t been back home to Utah since 2010, so it is a trip long overdue.  I get to show Adam around, introduce him to my family, and eat all my favorite Utah food (Cafe Rio and In-N-Out, for instance. Maybe some fry sauce for good measure.)  Plus, we’ll hopefully get a better feel regarding Salt Lake vs. Southern Utah and where we will be making our new home.
• That said, I get very sad when I think about my time in Nashville coming to an end.  This has been, without a doubt, the best 2 years of my life, the best chapter, and I am SO glad I listened to that little voice I heard telling me to move down here.  I have felt more at home here than I have anywhere or at any time in my whole life, and honestly, I could grow old here sipping on my sweet tea, for sure.  Six months or a year ago, I never would have entertained the idea of leaving this place, but when I think about putting down actual roots and where I/we will grow a family, I know that it will be important to be near family.
• I’m pretty sure I cried a gallon of tears watching this week’s episode of Parenthood.  Love that show so much.
• It’s supposed to be in the 70s tomorrow, but only 45 on Friday, and thus… more scary storms and tornadoes are creeping on the radar again.  All I know is, Adam and I have tickets for NEEDTOBREATHE at The Ryman tomorrow night, so the storms better steer clear of downtown.
• It’s been almost 2 months since I sold my car and I don’t even miss it.  If I didn’t work from home, things would be a lot more difficult, but for the foreseeable future, I don’t see any reason why I would need to get another car.  One of the moving “plans” is to find a small, cheap apartment in a very walkable area of SLC.  Another bonus is that they have a great public transit system.  (Although my sister did accidentally sit in a puddle of pee on TRAX once.)
• It’s 9:22 p.m., and I am beat.  I was hoping to get to bed by 8:00 p.m. tonight but that plan failed, obviously.

Until next time, blogfriends.