Sadness and Hope

Well, obviously I haven't been writing. My last post was in March, and here it is, June. What have I been up to, since I'm not writing?

I guess you'd say I've been a little down in the dumps.  

Moving. It's a stressful experience for most people. Even just moving across town can be a challenge. I've done that--move across town-- multiple times in my 67 years. I always moved within a few miles of where I had been living. After a while, I adjusted to my new digs, whether it was a step up or a step down. 

Let's don't delude ourselves into thinking that every move is an improvement. Most of mine have been, but some weren't.

Over the years, every time I moved, whether it was a great move or just a necessary move, it was always in the town where I grew up. So while I had to unpack and settle into a different home, I had familiar surroundings right outside the door; my wonderful little hometown. 

Home Sweet Home. I never considered moving out of my hometown until all my kids moved away. I love my hometown; always will. However, living alone in a town without any of my immediate family in it became unbelievably lonely during the pandemic. I decided that when I retired at the end of the 2020-2021 school year that I would sell my house and move to the town where my daughter and her family lives. I was tired of simply watching everyone be with their grandkids; I wanted to be around mine, too.

So here I am, settled in to my cozy little duplex in a town which is a 3 1/2 hour drive from where I lived for the first 66 years of my life. Yes, that's right. Three and a half hours. I've never been a fan of driving, and now it's also expensive.

No regrets. Am I sorry I moved? No, I am not! I have family about 2 miles away. I can be at my daughter's house in less than 15 minutes. I see my grandkids at least once a week; sometimes more often. I love that I'm getting to be a part of their lives. I love that I got to attend my grandson's Kindergarten graduation and the school awards assembly for my granddaughter in person for the first time. I love that I get to have lunch with my daughter on a weekly basis. 

What's the problem, then? Well, I'm sad. I'm homesick. There, I said it. I'm sad, because I miss my hometown. I'm sad because I miss my friends, extended family, and co-workers. I worked at one school for 26 years and I miss those people dearly. 

I lived in my hometown for sixty-six years. That's a long time. I had never lived anywhere else before. I didn't go off to college even. I married right out of high school and stayed in my hometown and raised my children.

I'm not upset that my children all "flew the coop" and moved to other cities and states. I raised them to have wings. I told them all as they grew up that if they could dream it, they could do it. I meant it, too. They are happily living their lives in their chosen vocations. All three have advanced educations, for which I am grateful and proud.

I just needed to write and express my feelings. If I've learned anything about emotional well-being, it's that bottled up emotions are not healthy. I've been really "stuck" for the last few months; unable to make myself do the things on my "to-do" list because I wouldn't give myself permission to be sad. I felt like I shouldn't be grieving the loss of everywhere and everyone I ever knew except for my daughter and her family. So I pushed it down and tried to "soldier on" as the British say. 

I'm declaring tonight that I've gone through a major emotional upheaval. My sadness has to give way to hope, though, because I'm giving it to God and asking for grace and peace, which I know He will give. He's put lots of projects on my heart, but two of them are front and center:

I'm writing a book. I've been wanting to work on it, but I haven't been able to focus on it. Getting started is usually the hardest step; at least it was when I was in college and needed to write a paper.

I'm the self-declared "family historian." I know I have lots of work to do, organizing and working on my photo albums, journaling throughout the pages to help the pictures tell the story of my family. I have always loved working on these albums. It's time to get back to it.

This has been a raw and real post, but it has been very cleansing. I know that tomorrow I will start to feel better and will be better able to take a step toward my ever-growing list of things to do.

Perhaps someone reading this has had a similar experience and is also feeling stuck. It's ok to feel sad, but don't feel sad alone. Talk to someone. Also, tell God about it. He will lead you to the healing you need. He is doing that for me.

I will forever love and miss my hometown and those dear friends I left there, but  I am allowing myself space to feel the sadness and then give it to God. I will visit there periodically, and see old friends and familiar sights now and then. 

I have a book to work on, and picture albums to journal in. 

Tonight though, season 9 of Call the Midwife beckons. (At least the first episode. It's getting late). I'm loving re-watching all these. I love British TV! I also love Father Brown and Doctor Who. 

Be blessed, my friends. <3

"There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1