Here we go again.
I thought I had left that nomadic life behind me. I thought I had finally settled. I married, had a son and made this country my home. I was ready to put down roots.
I didn’t expect my husband to say he wanted to move. I didn’t expect he’d one day want to travel across the seas and explore different places.
I thought he would be content with what we had. But it looks like he wanted more.
He received the offer to move to the London news bureau a few weeks ago.
I could see he wanted to go. It had been his dream for years. But he didn’t want to go without us.
There were things I wanted to do here. People I wanted to help. I had just started a job working with people who had fled conflict and persecution seeking protection in this country. I couldn’t wait to start engaging the community and have conversations about the importance of their health and well-being.
We are also at a great church. Full of friends and beautiful kids at Sunday school to look after. My son has been enjoying youth group and has been slowly exploring his Christian faith. He has made baby steps and I have been waiting, watching, praying for that fire to be lit inside him.
But I couldn’t say no to my husband. Couldn’t dig in and stubbornly refuse him. Not when he had been so supportive of me and our son in the past. Not when I’ve seen him want this opportunity for so long.
So in a few months we’ll be packing up our lives here in Sydney and getting on a plane. Our family will be bound for London to start our adventures there.
We are all excited, sad and a little terrified.
I am looking forward to what life has in store for us. It will mean a new school for our son. A new church family for us. Perhaps a new job for me too. It’s going to be a busy time. But I hope we can still stop and enjoy the opportunities that will come our way.
I am not looking forward to the goodbyes. I am going to be sad to leave behind the people we know and love here. I am going to miss the dawn breaking on the horizon as I walk along the beach. I am going to miss all the familiar and comfortable things.
What I will not miss is packing all our stuff. The books and crockery and sentimental trinkets we’ve accumulated during our twenty years in Sydney. I am not looking forward to sorting and throwing those away.
I should put my headphones on and blast some music while I work through the years of junk and memories.
There’s a song I’ve been listening to. I heard it the day after we made this decision to leave. It calls me to trust in God’s plans. To come to Him, ready or not. To walk into His presence whatever state I’m in.
This journey could be a disaster or it could be the best thing that ever happened to us. I guess we’ll find out by living through it. I have just got to trust we are in the best hands.
So here we go.