Every move is different.
I've lived in Iowa, South Dakota, China, England, Iowa, Michigan and Iowa. (Yep, Iowa seems to always lure me back . . . she's a crafty state!) I've done all these moves by myself. (Well, truth be told that for the stateside moves I had help with the packing, driving, unpacking, but ultimately it was my choice, my risk, my life.) These moves were all filled with adventure, excitement, giddy anticipation . . . lots of positive feelings.
This time I've discovered that moving a family is different. It's no longer just me! Now I'm responsible to and for others. And I confess that kind of sucks.
My oldest has burst into tears almost every night for the last week as I tuck her into bed and pray for our move. Tonight she finally said, "I don't want you to pray that out loud anymore. I want you to pray about that place in your mind only. I don't like hearing it in my face." She said this through sobs and tears and gasping breathes. It was horrible . . . I feel horrible.
I tell her that she is brave . . . that this is an adventure . . . that we are doing it together. I tell her that she will find a friend or two or maybe even three . . . that we can write and send pictures to our friends and they will send them to us . . . that home is where we are together. I tell her . . .
What on earth do I tell her?!?!
Have you moved with kids? Any advice? How do I help her grieve and feel her feelings but also see this as an adventure? How?
By the way . . . you are going to hear a lot about this whole moving gig the next month or so because it is basically consuming my every waking moment . . . so thanks in advance for putting up with me, giving me advice, passing on your own stories, keeping me sane (or as sane as I can be).
Confess on!
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