Until We Meet Again

Somehow, we've arrived at our last days in Chicagoland. A lot has happened since mid-March, though at the same time it feels like not much has happened at all. This period of restrictions and social isolation reminds me of the SAHM with little kids season--the days are long, but the weeks fly by.

We made it out to house hunt in Colorado right before the shut downs began. Literally--we crossed back into Illinois the day the shelter-in-place order went into effect. But in the two days we were out there, we found what we all think is the perfect house for us! We toured homes during a blizzard warning, never seeing the mountains the whole time we were there, but we found our next home. Which was such a gift.

On our way back to Chicago, we got a call from our Illinois realtor letting us know we would be receiving an offer on our house here over the weekend. Man, going into contract on our new home AND our old home on the same weekend just like our last move, really just confirms God's blessing on this move. We are so thankful!

But there actually is a lot different this time, with all that's going on surrounding the pandemic. A lot of our "last times" were done back in March, before everything shut down, and we didn't even realize it. Last time we went to our church in Bolingbrook on Sunday morning. Last time I went to the gym and did a class with my gym buddies. The last time morning spent in fellowship with my CBS ladies in person. And the last shopping trips and lunches out with girl friends.

When Molly got on the bus the day before St Patrick's day before we left for our house hunting trip, we thought there was a possibility it might be her last day at Liberty Elementary as many schools were closing, and it was. Glad I thought to get a picture that morning.

We were able to go back and pick up her belongings from her classroom since, and were happy to get a picture with her principal in front of the school to at least bring a little closure to the school year.

I am so thankful that the move process itself has gone so smoothly. Home inspections, appraisals, business with the bank--we've really had no major complications due to the COVID situation. Some things have been modified, but still went through. What a blessing. Signing the closing papers for our new home in Colorado with a mobile notary wearing masks from one of the only public spaces where we could meet wasn't exactly what we pictured, but it worked!

And things have come together for Warrior Wagons, too. We have passed on the preverbal reins to our new coordinators--getting them set up with supplies, showing them where to drop off Warrior Wagons at Lurie and setting up a team of volunteers to support them. We are so, so thankful that Warrior Wagons will continue to serve Chicago area Warriors and their families. We're so proud of this community and how generous they are with their time and resources as the newest part of the Warrior Wagon team.

In between all of these bookends, we've found ourselves in this weird place of already being cut off from our normal, but waiting for our next chapter to begin. Completing her last weeks of school from home. Having our last meals from our favorite local restaurants out of takeout bags...

We've found ways to make the best of it--with Zoom chats, a few "socially distant" picnic lunches with friends, and Facebook Live workouts.

It's been hard to have so many things we wanted to squeeze in before we left, but can't. So many people and places we would have loved to spend more time with and at, but won't. Our life as we knew it really came to an end back in March, and we've been in this weird in between place since.

But I can see, like everything, there are positives about it if I look for them. Even though we are disappointed we aren't going to get to say proper goodbyes, I also know how hard those are. How tough it is to see something play out, and knowing it's for the last time. I'm familiar with the longing for more time, when the sand of the hour glass runs out. And maybe it's a gift I didn't have to endure some of those this time.

We've already started the transition, whether we wanted to or not. We've gone back to the "just us" feel after a move, before you've made many connections. It brings you closer when all you have is each other. We figured out things to do that aren't closed or canceled. Like flying a kite, making homemade lemonade, sewing our first pillowcase, having a picnic, checking out a nature center, and trying our hand at new sidewalk chalk trends...

It makes it easier to leave in a way, when we aren't doing any of the things we'd like to do here. No school, no workout classes, no backyard barbeques with friends. No events or celebrations to miss out on, no holidays or gatherings with family enjoyed without us. The social media and messaging apps we have relied on to stay in touch with friends and family will serve us the same in Colorado.

But even in this strange holding pattern, the difficulty of moves cannot be escaped. People we've shared our lives and hearts with over the last 18 months make leaving even during this time hurt so much. When we were new and nervous and they welcomed us and befriended us, it made them really special friends. And now we have to move on after such a short time? Seems more than a little unfair, like a big tease. And it touches those tender, sensitive places in our hearts that have yet to completely heal from the goodbyes we feel like we just said to our family of friends in Minnesota, in addition to obviously the biggest goodbye I hope we ever have to say.

I'm not one that's real adventurous at heart, and loves routines and knowing what to expect. Here we go again, about to move, this time a thousand miles, to an unknown neighborhood and town. And without anything open out there, how will we meet anyone? Get connected in the community?

But just as I begin to feel upset and overwhelmed, once again, I feel the Lord reminding me what He taught me in 2016. One day at a time. Trust me. I will never leave you, I will take care of you. Haven't I always? 

And I know it's true. I know I don't even know the amazing things He has in store for us in this next chapter of our lives. How great Colorado will be. What our family will get to be a part of, how we'll see Him work in a new community.

So we'll keep doing what we've learned to do: Make the most of each day. Be so very thankful for all the little things. And trust that He will be with us and go ahead of us to Colorado, preparing our new home for us just like he did here in Chicago just 18 months ago.

One of the blankets someone gifted us after Drew died had words that gave my heart so much clarity and comfort. The words played in my head as tears fell down my cheeks on the way home from the last afternoon spent on a deck with some of my closest friends (6ish feet apart 😉)...

Farewell, Chicago. And all the wonderful people we've met. Thank you for welcoming us, befriending us, and continuing our little wagon project with us. The memories, the experiences and the connections will have a special place in our hearts.

This isn't goodbye, because this is not the end, but simply that I'll miss you, until we meet again 💕