When we first looked at this place I remember thinking “finally…maybe…yes?…yes” We found the house. Not where I wanted it to be, not how I envisioned it. But DC is expensive man. It was one thing to rent in the city, but buying in the city? Who could afford that? Apparently a lot of folks, but we weren’t one of them. So this cute little townhome in the DC suburbs would have to do. I would adjust, begrudgingly. But the neighborhood was quiet and it had a playground, perfect for then 11 month old Johanna. It would work. We would make it work. We would give it five years, but then we would have to make another move because this could not be permanent.
This was not home.
It’s been 6.5 years since that day. 1.5 years longer than I bargained for, and I’m still itching except now I have to find a remedy. This is not home. This is not our place. This is not where we are supposed to be. This home is not where our babies are supposed to forever grow up.
This home is small. It’s a mess. There’s no space for anything. So much needs to be replaced. So many memories need to be replaced too. This home has served us as well as it could. We have been thankful for this home. It has done its job.
But I tire of it.
I want more.
I feel silly saying that. So many don’t have anything. So many would give anything for what we have. We’re not ungrateful. We’re not greedy. We’ve simply grown and this home can no longer provide what we need.
This state can no longer provide what we need.
I am stifled. My growth is being stunted here. Yet I am scared.
This area provides so much. It provides everything. I have the best friends in the world here. The best opportunities. Black girl magic happens all over the place here. New opportunities present themselves every day. There’s never a dull moment. What if we move to a place where there are dull moments?
Where it gets too quiet…
Where downtown isn’t full of people on the weekends.
Where people are complacent and aren’t looking for more.
We’re too young to live in complacency. But we tire of living in the stress, the rush, the work, work, work, never family, family, family. We tire of living where time simply slips away every day. We’ve been meaning to talk, meaning to sit with each other for awhile, meaning to play and enjoy, but time is not made for family here. Time is made for work. It is made for the important jobs that come before your family without you realizing it. It’s made for the events that cannot be missed, the plans you must be apart of. It is made for being known, being in the know, and mixing it up. Time here eats away at your relationships. “When are you going to make time for me?” Is often heard when things are ending here because time gobbles up everything you have and you realize you didn’t use it wisely.
But what if we go someplace where it’s too much us time? Where we grow, but don’t grow individually? Where we stretch, but the kids don’t? Where there potential isn’t challenged and met?
Home. This state is our home, but not this house. It is time for us to leave both. I know that. But I’m terrified of finding a new one. Terrified of failure. Terrified of boredom. So scared of opportunities lost.
And this is the part. This is the part where we have to trust God’s plan. This is the part where our faith must stretch. This is the part where we must let the Lord lead us for he knows the plans he has for us. We’ve got to trust that, and move.