I feel a little bit like I’m in one of those Nationwide commercials. Things seem to be happening as fast or faster than I can react to them (then again, I’m a little slow).
We’ve been trying to get out of our lease because our situation has changed somewhat and it’s no longer a viable place for us to be. We’re in the midst of negotiations, but the landlord has tenatively offered us the lowest penalty if we are able to move out by September 15th. That’s three weeks to pack up, get rid of what we can, find a place, and get the heck out of dodge. It’s also three weeks to try to negotiate a buyout that we can handle (which makes us really limited) and still wind up with enough to put a deposit on something else.
In the mean time, I have a work committment on one of the three remaining Saturdays, and if I get final confirmation that I am accepted into school, I will be starting classes around September 2nd. That’ll add four hours of class two or three days a week on top of work, commuting, packing, and crying in my beer. We’re trying to move in a counter intuitive direction to what we have been attempting for the last few years - moving closer into the city so work and school would be only a few minutes away, rather than a few hours, and sacrificing having the space and the yard until I can grab hold of a degree that I can take with me to some place less expensive so we can really have our little place with some land for the kids to roam and the garden to grow like we’ve always wanted, without me needing to be tethered to some big, long-commute city for an income. If we can find a place where we can get by on less, we’ll wind up making due just fine, I imagine, and may find that we wind up with more. Like a family life that consists of more than an hour or two at night and frantic weekends playing catch-up. No pain, no gain, I guess.
I am a worryer - an anxious person by nature. I’ve been wound up so tightly lately with everything that’s going on that I have to make very conscious efforts to chill out and not snap at people. My wife is a saint, and even in the midst of her pregnancy, which is now creeping closer to the time when potential complications from her surgery earlier this year might manifest, she keeps telling me its an adventure and not to worry and that we’ll get it all done. I want to believe. I want to believe. I want to believe.
Suffice it to say, there’s no telling what I’ll have time for. If I can sneak in some blogging I may, if for no other reason than that it’s therapeutic. Writing puts me in a zone for a little while where the outside stuff goes away and I can just focus on an issue. If I am in and out, though, or disappear, know that it’s because things are a bit nuts right now, and if you could spare some prayers, I would really appreciate them. I’m going to God big-time with all of this stuff, because there are too many moving pieces for me to plan effectively, even if I really was able to see the best path. Until then, I guess I just have to keep reminding myself that, “Fear is useless: What is needed is trust.” (Mk. 5:36)


