leaving my village, finding myself

I watched as the moving truck pulled away with all my earthly possessions. I then took one final look around the house where I brought both my babies home from the hospital, and walked out the door. I had no idea at the time what was yet to come, but took my husband’s hand and drove away from what had been our life the last almost six years while our 3 month old and 2 ½ year old were buckled snugly in my rear view.

That was one year ago.  My now 16 month and 3 year old are snuggled in their beds while I sit up and ponder the departure from my village.  Village, you may ask?  Really it was a little suburb called Woodbridge that I had never heard of prior to relocating.  It's nestled not far from Washington DC and I never expected it to become such a huge part of my story.  But, now in retrospect, our time there and memories through those years are priceless.  

They were not just friends, they were my village.  You know that old saying, "it takes a village to raise a child."  I didn't realize the reality and truth in that statement until I left there.  I didn't know how enmeshed we were in a village I took for granted until we left it.  My kids have an abundance of aunts, uncles and cousins, though not by blood, who adore them, are invested in them and want the absolute best for them not just out of politeness due to friendship with me but because they are invested in my kids and our family.  I trust these friends implicitly.  I shared such a pivotal part of my story with them and they with us as some of us learned first how to be spouses together and then grew one couple at a time into parents.  We learned with each other and from each other.  I never encountered anything as a parent that I couldn't reach out to someone in my village and they could offer wisdom or advice that I needed or a soft place to land when I needed to vent.  There I was challenged, matured and refined.  It was not always perfect but there I learned my most authentic self.  There I became an adult.  

Starting over in a new town, in a new state and in a new time zone has been unexpectedly tough.  Don't get me wrong, the hubs and I moved quite a bit as single people and several times as a married couple.  We know how to uproot and acclimate but this time is different.  This time our babies are involved.  We uprooted them too.  It's not just us that is affected.  We have moved our children from our support system and are now trying to find new families and new friends to belong to and grow with.  And guess what, so far?  There's been no room at the inn. 

Don't get me wrong we've met plenty of nice people.  We attend a great church that has a thriving kids program.  Little man goes to an awesome preschool that I just love and I couldn't be prouder of his development.  I'm busy with activities both for the kids and myself all while trying to connect and maybe retrace my steps to finding a new home away from home. 

I recognize the reality of life and this situation.  I realize true connection takes time and sneaks up on you when you are least expecting it and then one day you look around and realize you have rooted where you were meant to grow for this next season.  You can't force it, trust me I've spun a lot of wheels trying.  I also recognize the challenge of trying to finish a thought, sentence or conversation with prospective friends while there are young kids all over the place.  However, I think my biggest takeaway from this change so far is never again wanting to have a village with a no vacancy sign hanging out front.  I think I got too comfortable and maybe complacent.  I was guilty of thinking that I had my circle of friends and wasn't looking for others.  We had a lot of people move in and out of our lives over the years due to the transient nature of the area, and I finally got weary of goodbyes and circled the wagons.  As I stare down the closed doors of full villages here I am convicted of my carelessness.  I should never have done this regardless of the risk of the continual goodbye, and I pray God reminds me of this so I can always be welcoming, inclusive and inviting to anyone He brings into my path.

I'm learning so much in this season.  It's been a lonely one at times but God totally has my attention now.  He stripped me of my comfort zones and hiding places and is communing with me in an authentic and humbling way.  I am being changed.  I can feel it.  And, you know what?  It's good.  I sure do miss my girlfriends, my strong village of accountability and love and having that close knit group for my kids, but I can definitely see why God might have moved us from it.  He wants everything, not just part of me.  He refuses to have a power struggle with me and I love Him for it even if it hurts.  I always have so much to learn, but here in this season I am starting to have ears to hear and eyes to see this next lesson.  I have faith that one day when we/I are ready He will give us our hearts desires for a new village for the next season of our journey, even though it's likely it will look like what He envisions for us and not what I want.  When we started in Virginia I couldn't see how that could be His will either, and now look how sweet a memory it is for us.  I might have lost my village, but I am truly growing and continuing to find myself in this next step of our lives and that is exactly where I am supposed to be.