Thanksgiving

Overheard in the van, as the radio played called-in expressions of gratitude:

  

Ben (freshly 7): I'm thankful that we found a house in Montana. Your turn.

  

Lily (freshly 5): I'm thankful that God gave me a family. Your turn.

  

Ben: I'm thankful for God. Your turn.

  

Lily: I'm thankful for sickness. Your turn.

  

Ben: {Groan} OK, Lily, we need to stop. We've run out of things to be thankful for.

  

Our cup runneth over. Happy Thanksgiving.

 

 

Montana City

Ethan and our Brave Friend Doug are flying in tomorrow from Montana. They have spent the last seven days searching far and wide for a rental for us to live in while we get our bearings and search for a more permanent home.

     

Brave Friend Doug was Friend Doug before he agreed to accompany Ethan, driving one of our vans to Helena. Brave Friend Doug and Ethan tested our route (it takes longer than Mapquest wants to admit), leaving a van in Montana so that we have one less vehicle to worry about.

  

And they did good. They found us a home in Montana City (10 minutes outside of Helena). It backs up to the BLM (Border Bureau of [what do I know? I'm still a Virginian] Land Management...no one can build there), so there is lots of land for the children and our sanity. It's on a mountain, and the view is "as beautiful as I can imagine" (Ethan's words). It's a 3-bedroom (us, the boys, the girls) with a living room, family room, extra room (schoolroom!), and a heated 2-car garage with an additional room (office!).

  

I am excited. The take-off date is December 15th. Ethan's mother has volunteered to drive with me (can you imagine??) in the van with the children, and my brother has volunteered to drive with Ethan in the moving van.

  

I can't wait to see our new home.

   

 

Moving to Montana

Specifically, Helena. Pronounced HELL-in-uh because the miners thought Huh-LAY-nuh sounded too girly.
  
Really.
  
This move, prompted by Ethan's acceptance of a call to pastor a small starter church ("mission work" is the proper vocab. in our denomination), agitates a whole host of conflicting emotions.
  
Relief: finally knowing where we will live.    
Anxiety: wondering where EXACTLY we will live.
  
Excitement: the thought of the Wild West. Sort of. 
Dread: the thought of the 35-hour drive, with Ethan piloting a moving van towing our camper, and me piloting our van towing our six kids. In a few weeks. Winter.
    
Happiness: meeting our new church family. 
Sadness: leaving our old church family.
And extreme sadness: leaving my family, which is whole-heartedly East-Coast tied.
    
Certainty: this is God's will for now. And as such, the anxiety, the dread, and the sadness will have to succumb to the surety of Doing the Right Thing. Calvinism over Emotionalism.
   
I can talk myself out of the anxiety and the dread. And the sadness? The part that is tied to fear (How long will it be before we see everyone? How will my children cope without their regular dose of grandparents?) needs to be doused with the promises of Scripture and the reminder of God's omnipotence and omnipresence. He can care for us over there and them over here. And the sadness that is tied to love (How long will it be before we see everyone?) will have to comfort itself with the same promises and busy itself with plans of having family come see our new home. Airplane tickets, people!!
  
Ethan took some beautiful pictures of Helena on his 12-day trip in September. Once I find the CD that I had them copied to (because our camera cord to the computer is packed away *somewhere*), I'll post those.