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9 months and 22 days ago, I received a text that significantly altered the trajectory of my life. My husband had been impacted by a massive corporate reorganization, commonly and politely referred to by corporate peeps as a “reorg.” He wanted me to know the WHY behind WHY he was coming home in the middle of what would’ve otherwise been a normal winter workday.

My hubby had made it safely through reorgs before. Not this time. This time it impacted us. Our whole family. Every single one of us.

From day one, I had a hunch this turn of events would lead us well outside of our comfort zone. Given my husband’s career trajectory and the kind of position he was looking for, I knew we could very well be moving out of state at the end of this journey. I left my 14 1/2 year career in speech-language therapy three years ago to pursue writing and photography, so it didn’t escape me that we were now prime candidates for moving anywhere in the country.

Fully aware of all the possibilities, I began praying a simple, but dangerous prayer.

Bring us where you want us.

As my husband searched and searched, met for coffees, drinks and dinners, pounded out resume after resume, interview after interview, I prayed.

Bring us where you want us.

I didn’t know what that prayer would bring. I didn’t know where that prayer would lead. I didn’t know how God would respond. I didn’t know if God wanted us right where we were, comfortable in Minneapolis near family and friends, or whether He was going to bring us to Missouri, Mississippi, or Missoula, Montana. Heck, I could’ve been going to New York or LA for all I knew. Perhaps we’d been missing something and God was giving us a chance to pursue that ONE crazy dream we both actually agreed on? When I prayed “Bring us where you want us,” I didn’t know if I was out of my mind or if I was actually onto something. I didn’t know if I’d be happy I prayed this prayer, or if I’d find myself regretting it for a lifetime. All I knew was that we didn’t ask to be impacted by this corporate reorganization, but we were. As far as I was concerned, it HAD to be God. This had to be God’s plan. The only thing I wanted at the end of this was for God to bring us where He wanted us.

We casually agreed to open the search up nationwide right away. But after a few months with no success with what we’d tried, we broke out Google Maps and analyzed exactly WHERE and WHAT big cities we’d like to live in if it was up to us. We wanted to be more targeted in our approach. The list was fairly short, but everywhere across the board of this great United States of America. Dallas, Boston, Chicago, Atlanta, Denver, Colorado Springs, Orlando, Los Angeles, Nashville and Seattle to name a few. If we HAD to move and the right position became available, THESE were the places we’d like to move.

Four months into the job search, it became crystal clear that the Lord was going to be bringing us to one of our top destinations. NASHVILLE! We were psyched, out of our minds psyched and excited that THIS could be the opportunity, THIS could be the place! It made perfect sense. In my mind, our callings were perfectly uniting for the first time in nearly 19 years of marriage. My hubby would land this AWE-SOME job. I would be in the center of an incredible creative community, arguably the most wholesome and welcoming creative community in the United States, primed to move my photography and writing to the next level. I’ve always been a southern girl at heart, and who wouldn’t LOVE to live and raise their kids in Nashville? Oh. My. Goodness. We. were. ready. Bring us where you want us, God. Bring us where you want us.

I prayed and I prayed. We cashed in our frequent flyer miles and bought me a plane ticket to Nashville so I could accompany my hubby when he went for two days of interviews. Did I mention this was going to be AWE-SOME? It was, indeed, awesome. I fell in love, absolutely IN LOVE with Nashville. Two days was all it took. I looked at homes, found an AWE-SOME, safe and beautiful neighborhood tucked on the edge of city and country. Mamas and daddies came out to greet me and offered sweet tea while the kids rode bikes and scooters down the streets. I kept on praying up and down, every minute my little mind could remember. And my husband assured me that his interviews went AWE-SOME. Everything was AWE-SOME. We were ready, ready to go, ready to go where God wanted us. NASHVILLE. But just over a week later, our world came crashing down. Nashville was a no. They offered the AWE-SOME job to the other final candidate.

It took us two months to recover from that Nashville experience. We loved Nashville. We adored it. My husband had a hard time, of course, but I had an even harder time letting go. Why would we feel SO called to go to Nashville, like this was SO right, like this was the perfect place for ALL OF US, only to find out we were SO wrong? I’d envisioned myself there easily. My heart beat more easily, felt it had found a home in Nashville. Why, God?! Why did you bring us all this way for nothing? What was the point? Why NOT Nashville?

Those two months of grieving were long. And hard. I wasn’t recovering quick, and nothing was feeling hopeful. I began wondering if I’d need to dash my writing and photography dreams to return to full-time work as a speech-language pathologist to provide financially for our family. I doubted, I mean REALLY, SIGNIFICANTLY doubted everything I ever believed about my call to write and photograph. I wondered if it was all a sham, a pipe dream, that I wasn’t really hearing from God after all, that I was going to end up right back where I was 5 years ago, teaching kids how to speak in sentences and say their sounds more clearly. It was all good and I know I was making a difference doing speech therapy, but I spent three long and hard years discerning the call to transition to writing and photography. This just didn’t make any sense. Why is this never ending? WHERE are you going to bring us, God? And WHEN? Can’t we please get an answer? Sooner rather than later so we have clarity about where, why, how and when?

That’s when I fell far from God. I kept waiting. I kept doing my part to help my husband, our family and our household stay afloat. But I stopped believing. I stopped trusting that God had a good plan for us. I questioned the goodness of God. I stopped praying to a God I wasn’t so sure about anymore. Maybe I’d gotten this Christian thing all wrong. Maybe I’d been “hearing God” and “following Jesus” when actually I was just a crazy person making up things in my head to make myself feel better. Maybe God wasn’t who I thought He was after all? Why all the PRAYER that’s bringing us NOWHERE?

The hard and honest truth through all of this was that I stopped praying Bring us where you want us.

Months passed. More resumes. More meetings. More interviews. More waiting. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Then, seven months into the job search, THREE new leads rose to the surface. One in Minneapolis, another four hours from home, and another in Seattle.

One middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about all the “what ifs,” God granted me a fresh perspective, a new way of thinking about those three job opportunities for my husband. The Minneapolis job was the safe job. The job four hours away was the prestigious job. And the job in Seattle was the edgy, out of our comfort zone, just-right job. I knew right then and there that God was telling me that the Seattle job was “it,” but I didn’t want to trust my gut, I didn’t want to trust the Holy Spirit’s promptings because, well, there were still all of those trust issues between me and God.

Could one of these three be it? Who knew? The timelines were totally off. There was no way all three YES or NO answers were going to come in at the same time. How would we know WHERE we were supposed to go? What if my husband was offered the job in safe and comfortable Minneapolis, the only state our kids have lived in, the place where we have a home, friends and family? Shouldn’t we stay even if it was a super safe job? But what if he was offered the prestigious job, the job nobody would say no to? How could we deny that? And what if he was offered the Seattle job, far away but super cool and edgy and it seemed like a perfect fit? But it would be far away from family and friends and we’d have to move away from everything we’ve ever known?

What if?

What if God wants to bring us to new places, new spaces, new territories we’ve never explored?

What if?

That’s when I remembered that prayer.

Bring us where you want us.

Bring us where you want us, Lord.

It started to make sense again. In my heart, my grief over Nashville was never going to fully subside, but I’d come to accept we were NOT going to be moving to Nashville right now, so I might as well start wrapping my mind around something else again.

Bring us where you want us.

Bring ME where you want ME, Lord.

Not just my husband.

Bring ME where you want ME.

After all the Nashville heartache, we decided I wouldn’t join my husband for his interview trip to Seattle. I haven’t ever been to Seattle, but I decided that if my husband was offered the job, I would TRUST that God wanted us in Seattle and that I would move there without having been there, because that’s where God wanted me.

But then there was that prestigious job, the one that was four hours away from home. It made sense for me to GO and be there while my husband had three days of interviews. After all, I hadn’t been to that city for 19 years. Wouldn’t it would be good for me to check it out again in case I was weeks away from living there? I drove around, dined and did photo editing at a local deli. I tried to envision myself there, our kids there, our life there. I wasn’t sure where God would bring us, but I was trying to TRUST that He had a plan.

Sure enough, after a Minneapolis interview, a four-hours away interview, and a Seattle interview, the stars aligned. It was kind of crazy, really. Those three final jobs – safe, prestigious, and just-right – all came together in the end. With the timing of those final three interviews, there’s no human way we should have heard answers all within the same week. But by the grace of God, we got our YESes and NOs within a few days of each other. NO to the Minneapolis job. YES to the Seattle job. And literally minutes after my husband got his YES to Seattle, he got another call with a NO on the prestigious job.

We’d been praying for clarity. Others prayed for clarity for us. CLARITY was a word that popped up often those last months and days. CLARITY as to where God wanted us.

CLARITY resonated with me. We needed clarity. Our kids needed clarity. Our families needed clarity. I wanted clarity. I had to trust that God would provide CLARITY as to WHERE we were supposed to go, WHERE we were supposed to land at the end of this incredibly long journey.

Seattle. We finally have clarity. Complete clarity.

Today, Seattle’s where I’m heading. To meet my husband who started his new and TOTALLY AWE-SOME job two weeks ago. To get a lay of the land. After all, I’ve never stepped foot in the state of Washington. I’ve never stepped foot in Seattle. I’ve never been there once in my entire 41 1/2 years of life. I’t’s time to see it to believe it. It’s time to see where God’s bringing me.

Bring me where you want me.

Bring us where you want us.

 

Today’s story is written by my younger sister, Tiffany, who has a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type. Tiffany has shared regular stories on my site since February 2015. The purpose of her writing is to raise awareness of what it’s like to live with mental illness, and serves as a gentle reminder for ALL of us to continually press forward towards mental health and wholeness. If you’d like to read the stories I’ve written about Tiffany’s journey and all the stories she’s shared on this site, check out Tiffany’s Story. Without further ado, here’s Tiffany.

I’m still kinda bummed that summer is over and school has started. The fun-filled days of warmth, all-day play outside, friends, dolls, flowers, t-ball, swim lessons, pools, weddings, parks, parties, and staying up later and sleeping in. I will miss those summer days.

This year, I have a second grader and a preschooler. With both kids at school, I have some extra free time for myself. The ups and downs of this school year have pulled at my heart. I have experienced emotions I did not even realize I had anymore. This past summer was full of appointments to get both kids back on track. With hesitation, I’d like to share with you what’s going on at home and at school.

My seven-year old daughter, Raegan, can be a lot of work sometimes. After hours of observation and therapy, we were told she has conduct disorder. We were referred to people who could help out. Raegan has improved drastically. She is a perfect angel at school, but at home she went from having around six uncontrollable fits a week, down to one or two. Some weeks, she doesn’t have any fits and rages, as my dad would call them. She still, at times, wants what she wants and will cry and be out of control until she gets what she wants. In the past, I gave in more than I do now.

Raegan’s behavior has passed on to my three-year-old son, Xander, as children learn from their siblings. Xander attends preschool two mornings a week at the same elementary school that my daughter goes to. They like to look for each other throughout the day. Xander also attends a group three afternoons at a center that focuses mostly on emotions. He was just recently diagnosed with oppositional defiance disorder. I hope that neither of their diagnoses are lifelong, but we are working on both kids early to fix whatever is going on. They like to keep a close eye on the kids since I’m a single mother with a chronic mental health diagnosis.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Xander has separation anxiety?! Every day that he has had school so far, I’ve had to hand him over to his teachers crying. They all give me updates on how he is doing. He usually goes in and out of crying during his time at class, but from the pictures I’ve received from his teachers, he seems to be having some good moments too. Am I putting him through too much at such a young age? That question goes through my mind every time I drop him off at school. One day I hope to be confident in the choices I am making for my children. It takes a village to raise children, and I’m utilizing all the help I can get!

During the first couple weeks of school, I found myself looking all over for my kids in a panic. Oh my gosh, where are my kids? Slow down. Slow down! Xander is fine, and he’ll be done with school at this time. Raegan is at school, and she’ll be home on the bus at this time. Everything is okay! Now, fifth week in, I find myself more and more aware of the places they need to be.

At the end of each day, I wait for Raegan to get off of the bus. I wait for Xander to get out of the van. I really miss them. I’m excited for them to be home. I look forward to their hugs! I look forward to their smiles as they tell me about their day, piece by piece. Everything may not be great in my life, but we are surviving. Hopefully, everyday we can get some smiles out, some happy feeling. Raegan and Xander are on a path to becoming who they are. I am so happy to be their mom on this journey!

With both of my kids at school, I’ve had blocks of time to myself. I’ve experienced good things and bad things. Many times, I have been uncertain and confused about what I should be doing with my time. I’m so used to having both kids with me most of the time. I’m still trying to figure out how I can make the best use of my time. The main emotion I have experienced with both kids gone during the day is sadness. Am I making good decisions to have them in the programs they are in? It’s very difficult to leave a crying child, yelling “MAMA!”

I’ve also experienced lack of motivation. I have lists of things I could be doing, but I end up doing nothing. One day I was so tired that I planned on taking a nap. I just laid there thinking about the kids. I felt uneasy that I was not utilizing the free time I had. Week two started and slight motivation started happening. I hung out with friends a couple times and thought of more ways to spend my time.

I have reached out to others, asking them what they thought I should do with my free time. Some people thought I should start working or volunteering, while others felt I should spend my time doing whatever makes me happy. I am not in any condition to start working. I feel that I could volunteer, as long as it’s something I enjoy doing. I thought of volunteering at the behavioral health center, because their building is located right next to my place and I spent months there when they first opened. I would really enjoy working with others who deal with mental health issues. But they gave me a “no-go” to volunteering there. They are super locked down and only let service dogs in. Another volunteer opportunity I thought of was to look into publications I could write for. Other than that, I’m still exploring ways to make the time I have off productive.

The school year has started, and if we have school-aged kids, we’re all adjusting in some way or another. The process takes time, but I feel the kids and I are adjusting well to the new school year. They are happier knowing what’s coming next. They like eating breakfast at school each day. For the most part, they are enjoying their daily routine at school. For me, there has been good, not so good and uncertainty so far. Only time will tell how the remainder of the year goes. I am hoping for fewer tears and more smiles!

Tiffany

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For months, the striped duvet and shams in the Pottery Barn catalog wowed me and called me. When it comes to decorating, our master bedroom is at the bottom of the barrel. The dining room, living room, powder room, kid’s bathroom and kids’ bedrooms have always taken priority over ours. It’s just the way we’ve operated. So there wasn’t any chance I was getting that Pottery Barn duvet until Chrismas Eve 2008 when I opened a surprise package from my mama. Somehow, she’d gotten whiff that I wanted that duvet. She bought it and packaged it up pretty with my name on top. It seems silly now, but I shed a few tears over that surprise. Because somebody noticed what I loved, somebody cared, somebody bought me something beautiful. Just for me.

Within a couple weeks, I’d ordered shams and pillows. In no time flat, the set was up. Bright and beautiful, comfortable and classy, just the way I envisioned it.

Now all we needed was fresh paint.

We just so happened to be working with an interior decorator on window treatments for our living room, kitchen, entryway, and two kids’ bedrooms, so when he came over for the consultation, we brought him upstairs to look at paint colors for our master bedroom.

I had a plan. I had a vision. I’m telling you now, I knew what I wanted before the interior decorator even stepped in the room. I wanted green, one of the shades of green in the duvet. Either shade, any complementary shade of green would do. That’s all I wanted. GREEN. Just make it green, please.

I told him straight up. “I want green. I was thinking green. Like this shade or this shade.”

He pulled out his big ring, flipped through all the blessed colors of green, and by golly, green just didn’t seem to settle right with him. (To this day, I still wonder if he didn’t have a true paint match, or whether he just downright hated green. The world will never know.)

“How about tan?” asked the interior decorator as he flipped through his color ring in search of the perfect tan to match my beloved duvet.

“I’d really love a dark brown wall,” my husband added. “Maybe on this wall, behind our bed.”

Honestly, I don’t even know how green turned to tan and dark brown, but it did. Before I knew it, this wall was going to be dark brown, this wall was going to be tan, so forth and so forth. Right before my eyes, the whole room had been revised. Tan and dark brown. And oh yes, let’s add a dark red stripe on the top AND on the bottom for good measure. Maybe it sounded like a good idea at the time. Yes, that would pull the color and pull the stripe up from the duvet onto the wall. A pop of color. Yes, indeed. I reasoned with myself, I convinced myself that’s just what we needed.

So up it went. Up went the paint. We hired the interior decorator’s suggested painter to come and do it. Because TAN plus DARK BROWN plus a DARK RED stripe not only on the top, but the bottom, too, was going to be a lot of work and there was no way I was doing this myself.

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I liked it at first. It was good.

I had my duvet. I had my shams. I’d even met the interior decorator at the discount fabric store and found the crazy floral fabric for our window treatments (all by myself, mind you…without his help, but with his approval).

But as each day passed, I grew to hate the tan, the dark brown, and especially the red stripes on the top and bottom of our walls.

I never wanted tan.

I never wanted dark brown.

I never wanted dark red. And I never wanted stripes.

I loved the striped duvet.

I loved the striped shams.

But I wanted GREEN on the walls. GREEN.

Every morning since the winter of 2009, I’ve woken up next to my beloved husband, snuggled up in my striped duvet. I look over on my dresser where I keep a family photo and all my Kenya, Haiti & Dominican treasures, and I’m grateful for the life and opportunities God has given me. But then I look up at the Target tan and red walls, I look over to our beautifully framed wedding photo and the big red stripe right above it, and I’m reminded that I LOST. MY. VOICE. I didn’t know how to assert myself in a moment that counted. Sure, paint color WAS and IS a simple thing, a superficial thing. Honestly, paint color doesn’t matter one iota in the scheme of much-more-important life things. But my voice DOES matter. My opinion DOES matter. What I THINK, what I HOPE for, what I WANT, what I DREAM of, and what I LOVE DOES matter. I must not deny that. I must not deny my voice. Even when it comes to superficial things, like green walls.

Not now, but sometime in the next year or two, we’re hoping to buy new furniture and bedding for our master bedroom. As two first borns, it takes us a bazillion years to agree on pretty much anything, so we’re already starting to look and dream and talk a bit about what that new bedroom furniture and bedding might look like.

This week, we received a Pottery Barn catalog in the mail. I’ve been throwing them straight away for months because we’re not in the position to buy furniture, bedding or anything from Pottery Barn right now. But this time, we did take a peek. My husband wants this page…neutrals, grays, dark browns with a light neutral on the walls. I want something more like that page…creams, linens, with more color in the quilt. And I won’t say what color I’d like on the walls until I know what bedding we’d get.

Yes, I reminded my husband that I won’t be promising anything this time.

Because I’ve learned my lesson.

I will not surrender my voice to paint colors. I will not surrender my voice to the colors on a quilt. I will not surrender my voice to the type of wood we have or the type of light fixtures that hang from our wall, or anything of the sort.

Never again will I stare at a wall for 9 years, letting it remind me that I not only surrendered, but LOST my voice for no good reason.

Just in case you wondered where all the passion comes over paint colors…this losing my voice for no good reason? It isn’t a first, you know. This isn’t about green paint. This isn’t about tan or dark brown. This isn’t about red stripes. This isn’t about my beloved duvet. This isn’t about me being married to another first born or us taking a bazillion years to choose things together. This isn’t about our interior decorator. This isn’t a debate about superficial things vs. things that really matter. This isn’t about me being a bratty baby and needing to “suck it up buttercup” because paint color doesn’t matter in light of hurricanes and fires, nuclear bombs and starving children. This is about me OWNING my VOICE, being able to express myself and standing strong and steady in that space. This is about me seeing that I matter, that my thoughts and opinions count for something, that I was created for a reason and that I should feel free to release my voice and gifts into the world just as much as anyone else.

Bet your bottom dollar, I’m saving my beautiful, beloved duvet for a guest room. Maybe this time, I’ll paint the walls green.

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