Wednesday, April 30, 2014


We lived in a small town when we first got married. It was the same town I'd grown up in, the same place my parents lived. His parents lived there too. His sister and her kids also called it home and, though my brother was attending school at UCSD, his permanent address was there, in that town. Every single one of my grandparents were within 40 minutes as well as all of my aunts, uncles, and six cousins.

My inlaws moved when Garrett was just a baby.

That started the ball rolling for us.

And when Garrett was sixteen months old, we packed up and moved to Utah. To this ministry. To this life.

It's been six and a half years.

Still, I fight the twinge of jealousy when I see extended families celebrating holidays together. Or hanging out after church on Sunday. Or moms and daughters getting coffee together.

I fight the twinge of jealousy when people--who have large amounts of family within ten minutes--say, "I don't have anyone to watch my kids." Because my parents and Troy's parents--and all our siblings, probably, would LEAP HIGH IN THE AIR WITH SHOUTS OF JUBILATION if they got the chance to watch my children.

We had Troy's parents here for a week. They left on Wednesday morning and my parents got here on Thursday. They stayed until today. Some people seemed to think it was crazy that we were going to have house guests for so long.

No. Not crazy.


We got to have our families here for TWO WEEKS. (My parents are coming back for two days after visiting Idaho for a bit so the fun isn't even over yet.) We GOT to have our families visiting us.

I always thought I'd be away from my family and, over time, the new normal would take over and I maybe wouldn't really miss them. That isn't true. My home is here. My life is here. My church family is here and my friends are here. Here is where we are.

But part of my heart will always and forever be there.

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