See above title. I would use a slightly stronger word, but my mom reads this and frankly I'm still afraid of disappointing her. Seriously, y'all she would be less than happy. I grew up in a house where the mild potty words were not tolerated, so I will respect my mother and leave it as is.
I want to birdwalk a bit here and welcome my darling hubba-bubba to the blogosphere. He is doing a collaborative blog with his BFF, just like us. I won't go so far as to say that they stole the idea, but we were an inspiration. He posted this about transitions. He's optimistically hopeful and excited and even energetic about the whole thing. I'm feeling guilty for not being as happy about his new job and opportunities. I'm just plain sad. I'm over the crying for days on end bit, but I'm still down.
Here's the 411. Can you still say that, or is that soooo 2004?
My husband is a Youth Pastor. And for 4 more days he will be. He is making the HUGE leap ahead to Senior Pastor, anddragging me along kicking and screaming I'm genuinely supportive. I really am supportive. I really am happy for him and his chance to do what he's supposed to be doing. But, I wasn't just whistling dixie when I said I cried for days on end. I did. 3 to be exact.
I want to birdwalk a bit here and welcome my darling hubba-bubba to the blogosphere. He is doing a collaborative blog with his BFF, just like us. I won't go so far as to say that they stole the idea, but we were an inspiration. He posted this about transitions. He's optimistically hopeful and excited and even energetic about the whole thing. I'm feeling guilty for not being as happy about his new job and opportunities. I'm just plain sad. I'm over the crying for days on end bit, but I'm still down.
Here's the 411. Can you still say that, or is that soooo 2004?
My husband is a Youth Pastor. And for 4 more days he will be. He is making the HUGE leap ahead to Senior Pastor, and
I feel so silly crying over a move.
We are moving to what I have dubbed "The edge of outer darkness." It is a tiny town about 2 weeks from everywhere (O Brother Where Art Thou). Really, about 30 minutes to town one way, 45 the other.
This is what I was referring to when I wrote about serious junk.
This transition is a big deal. Not only for my main man, but for me. I don't feel ready, prepared, or even willing to be a Pastor's Wife. Oops. Did I just say that out loud?
Of course I didn't. Much worse, I wrote it to be recorded forever here (until I get in trouble and have to delete it.) :-)
So there you have it, folks. You now have the skinny. I'm just pulling out all the old corny phrases.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that is is such a shame to have to pack up and move since I just got the house organized and clean.
Gotcha covered. When I found out we were moving I just sorta gave up. So I'm back to where I started pretty much. Hey, I don't have the energy to cry all day and clean. Now all I have to do is throw mess in boxes, strap it to the car (above pic) and I'm done.
Lickety split.
Big Fat HA!
I'll keep y'all updated on my progress.
Do you have any seriously traumatic move stories that you're brave enough to share?
If it's too painful, I understand. Believe me, I understand.
3 comments:
It wil be ok.I'm the one who has to preach
Ladies & Gentlemen (or just Ladies) that previous comment was my Fab Hubs. And he's right, there's no way I would get up and do that, so, that's a bright side.
Oh man... transitions can indeed be so hard. :( Hang in there!! I prayed for you just now, that the transplanting goes smoothly, and that your new surroundings quickly become home... with new friends and adventures on the way!
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