Hello. . . Is It Me You're Looking For?

I've not abandoned the blog, but I have felt busycrazy and then some since the baby was born.  So much has happened already this year and so much more was to come that had you told me what a year this would turn out to be (and it's really barely half over.  Lordhavemercy, protect me through the rest!) I would have buckled up right where I sat.

From the spectacular fall and a new baby's birth to her holy Illumination and now the beginning of a new chapter in our lives.

For nearly all of our marriage Mr. Flavius has struggled with/against/toward a call.  At various times, my tin ear thought he was being daft/stubborn/not settling in/difficult, but that turned to amazing/dedicated/brave as I began to hear the correct pitch.  One day, I'll have to tell you about how choosing to let my husband be the head of the household saved me, our marriage, our family, our happiness. . . but not today.  Anyway, for the better part of a year, it has been our goal to get my man to seminary.  It started last August and took a major hiatus come December.  We had not a single showing during that time and I was happy to get the house off the market so I could prepare for the baby.  I think I called that time period the Divine Silence.  Mr. Flavius called it frustrating.  Then I fell.  After that baby I. came.  Now we are ready.  The proof?  We had a an offer for our asking price fewer than 12 hours after we went active.  Hello, Providence!

Anyway, just as I was settling into the thought that I would like to start hauling back in all those boxes of cookbooks and linens and sundry comforts that we had packed away last summer, I had a flash of inspiration on how to accomplish The Goal.  It was the radical option, but as it turns out it is The Option, ultimately it is all worth it in the end.  I don't normally like to say that God spoke to me.  Who am I?  But there was definitely a whisper that early morning in the predawn quiet.

That was Holy Friday.  Today, I sit in a preternaturally clean home devoid of the things and clutter one might expect a family of our size to have, awaiting the call of any passing agent who might care to see the house even though I don't really need too.  Two contracts signed.  One, for a home far away, waiting for our family's arrival.  The other for the house in which we have lived for nearly five summers now freshly painted and newly carpeted awaiting the now-strangers to become its soon-residents.

We are in the crazymaking time that is the house shuffle.  My mother is having a hard time with it.  My impression is that she is pouring over the various websites at all hours looking for The House, despite the fact that we have a contract on Another House.  She frets over the age, the stairs, the laundry room in the basement.  She frets for my ankle, over the snow ("5 feet!" she'll occasionally exclaim. Johnstown tends to get between one and two feet.), over the distance, for the children she already misses.  My father on the other hand calls with practical advice, the importance of a tune up, getting the serpentine belt checked, maybe we ought consider replacing the windshield.  Even he holds the children tighter, hugs linger a bit longer.

Other family members have flatly refused to give any kind of blessing to The Adventure.  I want to understand.  It sure makes it harder, but I am trying to understand.  Everyone, myself included, has remarked about the future likelihood of snow and all things snowy.  Apparently, we, Sun Worshipping Southerners, are terrified of the stuff.

In between Now and Moving Day, we have to cram in our last breaths of Texas -air, -sun, -memories. . . there is a rush to push it all into this moment, as though it could evaporate or fade once we cross over the state line.  M. turns 10.

I. has her third ear infection in less than as many months  We are headed to the ENT on Monday.  Lord have mercy on us and help her, poor thing.  She smiles amazing sunshine smiles.  I get lost in her eyes.  She is so attentive and responsive.  I am not adjusting well to the dairy free diet, but I'm trying.  She is getting better.

I did not write for so long because I did not know how to respond to some of the sad things going on with you, my readers, with my neighbors, and then to the tragedies that seem to abound between Pascha and now.  I did not want to contribute more noise or write falsely about one thing or another.  I prayed, found few words, and so I wrote nothing.

As for the moment, I hope to keep caught up here.  I hope y'all are well.  Many prayers and well wishes to you all.