As I ripped decaying plants and weeds from my flower beds this morning, the piercing blue Oklahoma sky bleeding through the shadows, I contemplated the future and our decision to move back to Indiana.
Three years ago we anxiously awaited a response to Kirk’s application to some hospitals in Oklahoma. In the daze (and truthfully, the soul-crushing post-partum depression) that often follows the birth of a first child, we were confused and missing the place in which we had spent the first five years of our marriage. Moving back to Oklahoma after Kirk’s clinical fellowship year (CFY) seemed like the right move for our little family. We made decisions based on who we thought we were and who we wanted to be. We had no idea, however, how difficult the days to follow would be, raising our two littles away from my family.
Three years older, with a smidge more wisdom and life experience in our back pocket, we have decided to move back to Indiana. Once more, we are ripping up our shallow roots, selling our first home, and seeking a new home, grafting our confused roots into the sandy, lake nourished soil of northern Indiana.
Although I am scared of change, I realize that sometimes it is better to change course rather than continue in the wrong direction. If we want to start living the values and ideals we so desire, we must be willing to make hard decisions. And so this morning I spoke with a realtor about listing our house in April. Saying goodbye will be difficult, but it won’t be the first time; and yet, I so strongly desire that it will also be the last. And like the new plants that will grow in our flower beds this spring, dormant after a long winter, we too will grow, change, and yet remain to our innermost being, who we were truly designed to be.