We moved out here full of optimism and plans. We were going to be out for only a year. It was going to be the last time we moved ourselves (the next time an employer was going to foot the bill.) We would be willing to go anywhere after that year, but hoped it would be back east . . . The list goes on.
Every year that went by we prayed to know what to do. We prayed to know where to go. We wanted to leave a place wherein we were hemmoraging money and had no hope of getting a place of our own. We wanted to leave this place with bad schools, and where children grew up with some really poor role models. And every time we prayed we clearly received the same answer: Stay. Stay in your job (for now.) Stay in California. Stay in the ward. Stay in this apartment.
It was hard to hear, and each time required a bit of mourning. Mourning for the dreams that could not be. Mourning for the life we didn’t have. It was a struggle, many days, to stay the same when what we wanted was change, what we wanted was a fighting chance to survive.
But the reality is that nothing goes according to plan. Life is about dealing what all you’re given. I can’t say I always handled my struggles with optimism and grace, but I think that at this point I have made the best of things. Of course I hope that things will keep looking up, but I hope that on the down days I’ll be able to pick myself back up.
It’s not how you you start, it’s how you finish
And it’s not where you’re from, but where you’re at
Everybody gets knocked down,
How quick are you gonna get up?
Just how are you gonna get up?
(lyrics from “Ali in the jungle” by The Hours)