So Here We Begin

St. Louis, Missouri...I write from my first trip to St. Louis to actively plan our move. After ten years of thinking and talking about moving "home," it looks like it might really be happening. Michael is on the home stretch of medical training, a job is in the works, and all of the sudden the train seems to be moving ahead full-steam. So I've come to look at elementary schools, neighborhoods to live in, and generally to start planning our life here...

...which is where I get stuck every time. "Our life here" is an oxymoron to me. For the past ten years, our life has been in Jackson, Mississippi. Our life has looked like lots of transition - from engagement to marriage, from college to seminary and medical school, from seminary to first, second, and third jobs, from medical school to residency, fellowship, and more fellowship, from just two of us to pet ownership and then finally to parenthood, twice. We have been blessed, many times over, with success, with opportunity, with each other. But mostly we have been blessed by the love of those we've known here. And so it is that my heart feels like it's breaking every moment of this weekend in St. Louis...I just can't imagine my life so far from those I love.

Can't imagine not being able to hunt down my Norma, closest thing I've ever known to a big sister, and a lifelong friend despite our much shorter years together, to compare notes about our very different lives as mothers that really aren't so different after all, to misbehave in choir, to be subjected to her curious taste in movies, to be treated to her fabulous love and knowledge of books, and just be able to hear and learn about how the world, and motherhood looks to her. Can't imagine day-to-day life without our E...without whom the quality of our life as individuals and as a family would seriously be called into question, without whom our Lucy wouldn't be quite the girl she is today, without whom my life would not be half as sane, manageable, or as fun as it is. (And along with E, her dear husband Troy, whom we have grown to love almost as much as we love E!) Can't imagine Friday lunches without my personality double and precious friend, John...to laugh and to cry (often from laughter) about our weeks and the players therein, to compare notes about our practices, to help each other think differently about our work and life, and just to share each other's sadnesses and celebrate each other's joys. Can't imagine knowing that my dear Sarah, refreshingly honest, funny, wise beyond her years Sarah, isn't just 90 minutes down the road should one or the other of us really need each other, a few margaritas, or both. (Can't imagine Lucy growing up so far from her betrothed, Sarah's son Ben, either.) Can't imagine not being part of the lives of my clients, helping them, loving them, being humbled by their courage and strength. Can't imagine not having all of the pieces of my life in Jackson that I cherish...more friends, resources and favorite things than I can list here...mostly because I'm afraid if I cry any more while writing this post, I'm not going to be able to stop.

I know that the people I love, the experiences I treasure, the memories of our life for these past ten years will remain a part of me forever. I know that I am not losing friends and loved ones. I know that changing locations doesn't change me. I just know that it's going to be hard. It's hard now...every day that goes by I am surprised by overwhelming sadness that jumps up and grabs me by the throat and makes me stop mid-sentence almost...and I don't think it's going to get easier between now and moving day. Sadness here is important, it's just really hard.

It's also hard to know that it's not just me that is hurting. Me hurting isn't fun, but it isn't unfamiliar or impossible to live through. Others hurting is harder to swallow. Watching Lucy make sense of this (the little bit she knows) is gut-wrenching. This life is all she knows, these people here are larger than life to her. She loves and needs them. Watching dear friends, who love me deeply and know me best, be excited for me despite their own sadness, is so hard for me. I hate knowing that this is hurting them, too. And I so need their love and support. It is a tangled web.

So here we begin. Difficult to imagine, hard to walk through, scary, lonely, and exciting all at once. Thanks for walking with me, all of you.