The only person I knew when we moved here was Jodi. She was the director of the Chamber of Commerce at the time, and let me tell you: she knew EVERYTHING. She was my lifeline to getting done all the little things that must be done when you move. Phone company, internet service, electricity, school enrollment, phone numbers, addresses --all that stuff-- I couldn't have done it without her.
And I continued to have questions for her even after we moved and most things were taken care of. I was trying to get my Zumba classes started up, and wondering who to call, and she put me in touch with a few people. One day when I called her, she said, "Hey, are you coming to town?" I answered in the affirmative, and she gave me directions to the chamber office and told me to come by, so we could finally meet in person.
Jodi met me at the door with a hug! A hug, y'all! After I had been glared at, stared at, and generally made to feel unwelcome by the patrons of Wal-mart, here was this darling sweet woman, welcoming me with open arms. If you know anything about me, you know I love hugs! She said, "Come on, let's jump in my car and I'll show you around town!" And that's just what we did. Jodi took time out of her day to personally drive me all over town, showing me this and that, telling me to go here, talk to this person, call that person.
Weeks later, she talked me in to serving on the Chamber Board. Technically, Reggie was nominated for the position, but I wound up with it. During my time on the Chamber Board, I served my new community with excellent people from all over town: An insurance agent, a realtor, people from both the big banks in town, a computer fix-it guy, a minister, and people in advertising. I enjoyed being head of the events committee and planning the Halloween on Main event. I've made some lifelong friends, people I trust and can go to if I need anything.
Along the way, I've made some really great friends. When I started teaching Zumba at a local gym, I met Kala. She is a trainer and yoga instructor, and so very much more. Kala's interests are as varied as you can imagine, and she's one of the most down-to-earth people I've met. Online, I met Kelli, the strongest prayer warrior in town! Through my Zumba class (which I no longer teach, another post for another day) I met Mary, and because of her, I have extended my family even further. Family isn't always blood relatives. Sometimes family is bound by something stronger. Again, another post for another day.
Jodi put me in touch with a local restaurant manager, and while I didn't stay long, I worked for him for a couple months and made numerous friends and contacts through that job as well.
All in all, my experience in this small town has solidified what I already knew. Everything happens for a reason. God has a plan for me, and he's put all these wonderful people in my life for a reason. It's all part of his plan. Ya just gotta have friends!
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Tips for moving to a small town
I moved to a VERY small town, a little over a year ago. As of 2011, there are a little over 4,000 people living in this town. I actually live outside of town, and I've heard that about that many people reside in the outlying areas, as well. Still, I moved here from the outskirts of a big city, where everything you could want is within 20 miles or 20 minutes, regardless of where you live. It was quite a shocker to realize that this small town shuts down at 6pm. Everything but the Wal-mart, of course.
Small towns tend to stick to their own, and if you're new to the area, you WILL stick out like a sore thumb. I remember my first trip to town after I moved here. It was agonizing! People were looking at me like I was some stranger!!! I couldn't imagine why! Then it hit me. Most of the people in this area grew up together, and everyone knows everyone. I WAS a stranger. I'm happy to say I'm not as strange as I once was :) ... I can *usually* see someone I know when I go into Wal-mart.
Don't get me wrong: even though it took some getting used to, I love this small town. It has become home for us, in more ways than our previous residence of 10 years EVER did. In retrospect, I've discovered a few things that probably helped us out, and I thought I'd share them here.
1. The first thing I did when I found out I was moving, was to contact the Chamber of Commerce in the area. Get the important information such as who to call for trash service and phone and internet service providers. While you're at it, ask about any yearly activities and festivals held in the community. Ask about membership. If you own a business, become a member of the local Chamber of commerce. If you don't own a business, ou can still purchase a private membership. They can assist you in so many ways! Make friends with the director of the Chamber. She's a wonderful asset to the community, and likely knows everyone and everything that's going on. (Thanks, Jodi, for being my first friend in my new home!)
2. Take a drive. I remember being terrified that I couldn't find my way home, because we weren't living in town. We are 7 miles outside of town! In fact, I missed my turn the first time, and drove another 10 miles to the next small town, before I realized it. So, find the kids' schools, the Wal-mart, and the easiest route through town. Then drive the backroads. Stop and get a soda, and say "hi" to a stranger. I don't care where you live, if you stop at a roadside gas station and say hi to the old timer sitting outside the store, he'll probably strike up a conversation. (More on this at #7.)
3. When you get all settled in, call that nice girl down at the Chamber of Commerce and thank her for her help. Then offer to volunteer. My first round of volunteering was at the annual 4th of July picnic, and I met a lot of wonderful people! I went on to sit on the chamber board for a bit, and that was fun too. I got to head up the events committee, and in planning the Halloween on Main Street Event, I met many wonderful business owners, teachers and students, who all helped to make our Halloween amazing! You could also volunteer at the school. Meet the teachers. Call the principal. Visit the hospital and ask for a tour of the facility.
4. Most small towns have a central meeting place, like the stockyards. Go. Here, they meet every other Monday and every Saturday for the livestock sales. I've gone a few times. On Friday afternoons, they serve lunch, and everyone who's anyone has lunch at the stockyards. Find out what's going on in your new home town, and then participate!
5. Facebook, facebook, facebook. Really, just social media in general. It's a great way to connect with people in your area. Join a Buy-Sell-Trade page in the area, or a Newbies page.
6. Support the local economy in your small town. Shop where you live. Go to the farmer's market, the flea market, and the family-owned feed store. Get your hair done at the salon in town, stop in the antique stores and browse. Yep, the prices and taxes may be higher, and the selection may be smaller, but trust me. Feed your local economy. Every big city started out as a small town with small businesses. These small business owners are people just like you, and they're trying to make a living, put their kids through school, and scrape up something with which they can retire.
7. Talk to strangers. Most of us who come from big cities tend to keep our heads down. Trust me, again. This makes you STAND OUT. In a small community, everyone knows everyone, and they're constantly looking for a friendly face. So hold your head up and smile. make some friends. Talk to a stranger. Ask questions. Tell them right up front that you're new here, and you'd love to hear anything they could tell you about life in this small town.
8. Find a church. Self explanatory, right? Churches have their fingers on the pulse of the small town. The town I live in is blessed with some wonderful ministries, and I know of several I could call in heartbeat if I needed help, whether I'm a member there or not.
9. Relax. Enjoy the slower pace, the lighter feel of life in a small town.
Small towns tend to stick to their own, and if you're new to the area, you WILL stick out like a sore thumb. I remember my first trip to town after I moved here. It was agonizing! People were looking at me like I was some stranger!!! I couldn't imagine why! Then it hit me. Most of the people in this area grew up together, and everyone knows everyone. I WAS a stranger. I'm happy to say I'm not as strange as I once was :) ... I can *usually* see someone I know when I go into Wal-mart.
Don't get me wrong: even though it took some getting used to, I love this small town. It has become home for us, in more ways than our previous residence of 10 years EVER did. In retrospect, I've discovered a few things that probably helped us out, and I thought I'd share them here.
1. The first thing I did when I found out I was moving, was to contact the Chamber of Commerce in the area. Get the important information such as who to call for trash service and phone and internet service providers. While you're at it, ask about any yearly activities and festivals held in the community. Ask about membership. If you own a business, become a member of the local Chamber of commerce. If you don't own a business, ou can still purchase a private membership. They can assist you in so many ways! Make friends with the director of the Chamber. She's a wonderful asset to the community, and likely knows everyone and everything that's going on. (Thanks, Jodi, for being my first friend in my new home!)
2. Take a drive. I remember being terrified that I couldn't find my way home, because we weren't living in town. We are 7 miles outside of town! In fact, I missed my turn the first time, and drove another 10 miles to the next small town, before I realized it. So, find the kids' schools, the Wal-mart, and the easiest route through town. Then drive the backroads. Stop and get a soda, and say "hi" to a stranger. I don't care where you live, if you stop at a roadside gas station and say hi to the old timer sitting outside the store, he'll probably strike up a conversation. (More on this at #7.)
3. When you get all settled in, call that nice girl down at the Chamber of Commerce and thank her for her help. Then offer to volunteer. My first round of volunteering was at the annual 4th of July picnic, and I met a lot of wonderful people! I went on to sit on the chamber board for a bit, and that was fun too. I got to head up the events committee, and in planning the Halloween on Main Street Event, I met many wonderful business owners, teachers and students, who all helped to make our Halloween amazing! You could also volunteer at the school. Meet the teachers. Call the principal. Visit the hospital and ask for a tour of the facility.
4. Most small towns have a central meeting place, like the stockyards. Go. Here, they meet every other Monday and every Saturday for the livestock sales. I've gone a few times. On Friday afternoons, they serve lunch, and everyone who's anyone has lunch at the stockyards. Find out what's going on in your new home town, and then participate!
5. Facebook, facebook, facebook. Really, just social media in general. It's a great way to connect with people in your area. Join a Buy-Sell-Trade page in the area, or a Newbies page.
6. Support the local economy in your small town. Shop where you live. Go to the farmer's market, the flea market, and the family-owned feed store. Get your hair done at the salon in town, stop in the antique stores and browse. Yep, the prices and taxes may be higher, and the selection may be smaller, but trust me. Feed your local economy. Every big city started out as a small town with small businesses. These small business owners are people just like you, and they're trying to make a living, put their kids through school, and scrape up something with which they can retire.
7. Talk to strangers. Most of us who come from big cities tend to keep our heads down. Trust me, again. This makes you STAND OUT. In a small community, everyone knows everyone, and they're constantly looking for a friendly face. So hold your head up and smile. make some friends. Talk to a stranger. Ask questions. Tell them right up front that you're new here, and you'd love to hear anything they could tell you about life in this small town.
8. Find a church. Self explanatory, right? Churches have their fingers on the pulse of the small town. The town I live in is blessed with some wonderful ministries, and I know of several I could call in heartbeat if I needed help, whether I'm a member there or not.
9. Relax. Enjoy the slower pace, the lighter feel of life in a small town.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Politics and Pie
From my own personal Facebook status:
"Everything... all the political nonsense... Can be summed up in one sentence. We have a President and a Congress, the majority of which seems to be concerned with only one thing: taking away our rights and freedoms."
I am not big on politics. I wasn't raised in a household where political views were discussed, argued, or even mentioned. Truth be told, I don't understand most of what our so-called Leaders have to say about the budget, foreign policies, warfare, or immigration. I'm not highly educated on subjects of this nature, but there is one thing I know to be true.
I AM FREE.
I was born in America. I have freedoms granted to me by the Bill of Rights. There is a wonderful work of policy that our legal system is based on, known as the Constitution. These 2 documents are the framework of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for each and every American Citizen.
That being said, my point is this:
YOU ARE FREE!
You are free to debate, to ask questions, to express opinions both verbally and in writing. Or not. You have the freedom to say nothing at all.
You are free to own and operate a firearm. You are also free to NOT own and operate a firearm.
You are free to praise and worship. Or not. No one says YOU MUST DO SO. Only that you can, if you want.
You are free to get an education, a job, a car, a house. Or more than one of those things, if you choose. Because it is YOUR CHOICE. You are free to choose. You are free to NOT choose.
You are free to eat pie... Or cake, if you so choose. But you're not entitled to it. You must get it for yourself, and guess what? You are FREE to do so!
You are NOT entitled to those things. That's what's wrong with people today! They believe themselves to be entitled to some one else's piece of pie. You are not entitled to MY PIE! You don't get to have what *I* worked for, just because you think you should have it. I worked for my pie! I worked for my car, I worked for my house, I worked for my clothes. They are MINE.
However, I am willing to help you get your own pie. I'll even let you use my recipe. I might even help out by providing one or more ingredients, if I see that you are willing to go after your own pie.
(In case you've missed the reference here, PIE simply stands for everything YOU or I have WORKED for, that the President, in his unending stupidity, would like to take and give to someone who refuses to WORK FOR THEIR OWN!)
Once upon a time, America was called "The Land of Opportunity." Back then, it was understood that it meant, "The Land where one can choose to take (or make) an opportunity." I think now it's seen as maybe, "The Land where Opportunity shall be made for one at the great expense of many." Don't even get me started on immigration.
What it comes down to... all of it, all the debate, all the big scary words and crazy talk... It all comes down to this:
Are you going to let the government, and this ungodly man who has unfortunately been placed in a role of leadership, take away your basic rights and freedoms of choice?
Because believe it or not, WE DO HAVE A CHOICE!
Jennifer
"Everything... all the political nonsense... Can be summed up in one sentence. We have a President and a Congress, the majority of which seems to be concerned with only one thing: taking away our rights and freedoms."
I am not big on politics. I wasn't raised in a household where political views were discussed, argued, or even mentioned. Truth be told, I don't understand most of what our so-called Leaders have to say about the budget, foreign policies, warfare, or immigration. I'm not highly educated on subjects of this nature, but there is one thing I know to be true.
I AM FREE.
I was born in America. I have freedoms granted to me by the Bill of Rights. There is a wonderful work of policy that our legal system is based on, known as the Constitution. These 2 documents are the framework of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for each and every American Citizen.
That being said, my point is this:
YOU ARE FREE!
You are free to debate, to ask questions, to express opinions both verbally and in writing. Or not. You have the freedom to say nothing at all.
You are free to own and operate a firearm. You are also free to NOT own and operate a firearm.
You are free to praise and worship. Or not. No one says YOU MUST DO SO. Only that you can, if you want.
You are free to get an education, a job, a car, a house. Or more than one of those things, if you choose. Because it is YOUR CHOICE. You are free to choose. You are free to NOT choose.
You are free to eat pie... Or cake, if you so choose. But you're not entitled to it. You must get it for yourself, and guess what? You are FREE to do so!
You are NOT entitled to those things. That's what's wrong with people today! They believe themselves to be entitled to some one else's piece of pie. You are not entitled to MY PIE! You don't get to have what *I* worked for, just because you think you should have it. I worked for my pie! I worked for my car, I worked for my house, I worked for my clothes. They are MINE.
However, I am willing to help you get your own pie. I'll even let you use my recipe. I might even help out by providing one or more ingredients, if I see that you are willing to go after your own pie.
(In case you've missed the reference here, PIE simply stands for everything YOU or I have WORKED for, that the President, in his unending stupidity, would like to take and give to someone who refuses to WORK FOR THEIR OWN!)
Once upon a time, America was called "The Land of Opportunity." Back then, it was understood that it meant, "The Land where one can choose to take (or make) an opportunity." I think now it's seen as maybe, "The Land where Opportunity shall be made for one at the great expense of many." Don't even get me started on immigration.
What it comes down to... all of it, all the debate, all the big scary words and crazy talk... It all comes down to this:
Are you going to let the government, and this ungodly man who has unfortunately been placed in a role of leadership, take away your basic rights and freedoms of choice?
Because believe it or not, WE DO HAVE A CHOICE!
Jennifer
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
A Letter to My Son
To My Son,
All your life you have been loved by a woman. A woman carried you in her body. A woman survived major surgery in order to bring you into the world, and bears the marks and scars from the journey. A woman spent painful and sleepless days and nights to see to your every need while recovering from your birth. You fed, bathed, and clothed by a woman, every hour of every day for the earliest years of your life.
The first words you spoke, the first time you walked or tied your shoes, your first day of school - a woman was there with tears of joy to cheer you on. A woman has taught you, fought for you, and fought with you. A woman has cried for you and prayed for you, and coaxed smiles from you. A woman has raised you up through sick, mad, sad and glad.
I may be an oversensitive woman, but I'm your mother, and through all of this, I have earned that right. I was given the responsibility for your care, and the responsibility to see that you grow into a good man. With that responsibility comes the right to be a little oversensitive sometimes.
Now that you are nearly a man, I have this one thing to say to you:
Never ever forget the true worth of a woman. Do not forget how wonderful she is, how much she has been through for YOU. The day you forget is the day I will cry the hardest, for my son, on that day, the woman did not fail the man, but he failed her.
I love you,
Every second,
Every minute,
Every hour,
Every day.
Love, Mom
Written by Jennifer Murray, 8-22-12
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Passion and Sleepless Nights
Ok, that's a risque title, but let me explain.
Life is good here in the country. Notice I said "Good," and not "Perfect." "Perfect" would be having the west fence up, having a tractor to make our work easier, having enough money and supplies to build this place into the ranch we dream of."Perfect" would mean I could take in, take care of, and adopt out every animal that comes across my path. "Perfect" would be kids that get along all the time, a fridge and freezer that is always full, and laundry that does itself.
"Good" is the fact that we have enough work to pay our bills. "Good" is that my children are normal and healthy. It's "Good" that I can touch a few lives through my many jobs, be they animal or human lives.
My passion is so strong! It almost overrules my sense sometimes. For instance, I know good and well exactly how many animal I have room for, and how many I can afford to feed. and it's not that many. And yet every night, I go to bed thinking I haven't done enough. I haven't helped enough, saved enough, rescued enough. I've had to turn down animals lately, because this place just isn't ready yet. I've had to say "no" to people who have asked for help, whether it's with animals, personal stuff, kids, community or Zumba. I just can't do it all. I expect too much of myself, I guess, because honestly! Who CAN do it all? And yet I wish....
I wish I could say yes every time someone says to me, "I just don't have time for this horse. Can you take him?" How very sad... and yet, I barely have time for my own.
I wish I could say yes every time the call goes out for us to rescue a baby bird or a stray cat, but honestly, I just can't! We don't have the funds or resources to take care of everything.
I wish I could donate to help the community, the Chamber of Commerce. I haven't even paid my own membership yet! But I help wherever I can.
And yet I lie awake at night wondering what else I can do?
Did I do enough housework? Did I spend enough time on my Zumba career? Did I help my husband enough today with OWC? Did I hug my kids? Do they know I'm proud of them?
I'm not saying my plight is any different than anyone else's. I know good and well there are people facing tougher issues than mine. But still, I am awake, my passion for my many jobs burning late into the night, my mind buzzing with WHAT? When? How? Can I? Should I?
A lady called me about a horse that her father rescued, a small pony who had been dumped on a wildlife reserve. She wanted to know if I could take him. I wanted to say YES!!! Bring him to me, I will love him, I will see he is placed in a good home. But I can't. Where he is now, he has green grass and room to roam. He's in no danger. He's already been rescued. She just didn't have time for him. And that's not my job. It's not what I do. My passion is helping to heal those broken, discarded, neglected animals, who have known so little of human trust and interaction. He didn't fit my mission. Is he any less deserving of my time? NO! But I must pace myself and my resources for those who may truly need me.
Right now, for instance, I have Twister. Yes, I STILL have Twister. Poor fella, no one seems to want him. We get a few calls, but no one comes to look at him, and those who do decide he's not for them. I've considered keeping him, but he needs work, and I have no where to set up the round pen and work with him. Yet.
If it were up to me, and I had unlimited funds and capable willing people to do the work, this ranch would be ready to go YESTERDAY. I'd have a barn, a place for the round pen, feeding stalls, and all the green grass the animals could stand. But it doesn't happen over night.
And so, I go to bed, exhausted, but unable to fall asleep, because my passion is higher than my bank account can handle.
Life is good here in the country. Notice I said "Good," and not "Perfect." "Perfect" would be having the west fence up, having a tractor to make our work easier, having enough money and supplies to build this place into the ranch we dream of."Perfect" would mean I could take in, take care of, and adopt out every animal that comes across my path. "Perfect" would be kids that get along all the time, a fridge and freezer that is always full, and laundry that does itself.
"Good" is the fact that we have enough work to pay our bills. "Good" is that my children are normal and healthy. It's "Good" that I can touch a few lives through my many jobs, be they animal or human lives.
My passion is so strong! It almost overrules my sense sometimes. For instance, I know good and well exactly how many animal I have room for, and how many I can afford to feed. and it's not that many. And yet every night, I go to bed thinking I haven't done enough. I haven't helped enough, saved enough, rescued enough. I've had to turn down animals lately, because this place just isn't ready yet. I've had to say "no" to people who have asked for help, whether it's with animals, personal stuff, kids, community or Zumba. I just can't do it all. I expect too much of myself, I guess, because honestly! Who CAN do it all? And yet I wish....
I wish I could say yes every time someone says to me, "I just don't have time for this horse. Can you take him?" How very sad... and yet, I barely have time for my own.
I wish I could say yes every time the call goes out for us to rescue a baby bird or a stray cat, but honestly, I just can't! We don't have the funds or resources to take care of everything.
I wish I could donate to help the community, the Chamber of Commerce. I haven't even paid my own membership yet! But I help wherever I can.
And yet I lie awake at night wondering what else I can do?
Did I do enough housework? Did I spend enough time on my Zumba career? Did I help my husband enough today with OWC? Did I hug my kids? Do they know I'm proud of them?
I'm not saying my plight is any different than anyone else's. I know good and well there are people facing tougher issues than mine. But still, I am awake, my passion for my many jobs burning late into the night, my mind buzzing with WHAT? When? How? Can I? Should I?
A lady called me about a horse that her father rescued, a small pony who had been dumped on a wildlife reserve. She wanted to know if I could take him. I wanted to say YES!!! Bring him to me, I will love him, I will see he is placed in a good home. But I can't. Where he is now, he has green grass and room to roam. He's in no danger. He's already been rescued. She just didn't have time for him. And that's not my job. It's not what I do. My passion is helping to heal those broken, discarded, neglected animals, who have known so little of human trust and interaction. He didn't fit my mission. Is he any less deserving of my time? NO! But I must pace myself and my resources for those who may truly need me.
Right now, for instance, I have Twister. Yes, I STILL have Twister. Poor fella, no one seems to want him. We get a few calls, but no one comes to look at him, and those who do decide he's not for them. I've considered keeping him, but he needs work, and I have no where to set up the round pen and work with him. Yet.
If it were up to me, and I had unlimited funds and capable willing people to do the work, this ranch would be ready to go YESTERDAY. I'd have a barn, a place for the round pen, feeding stalls, and all the green grass the animals could stand. But it doesn't happen over night.
And so, I go to bed, exhausted, but unable to fall asleep, because my passion is higher than my bank account can handle.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Moving on Down.... To the country
About 10 days ago, my son asked me when would we be able to move out of this school system, this neighborhood, and get somewhere out in the country. I said, "Son, when the time is right, God will put it in front of me, and we'll go." He asked me what I meant by that. "I've always believed that I am where God needs me to be. When we lived in Texas, the opportunity came for us to move back to Tulsa, and that's when NannyMae was so sick. If I hadn't moved back to Tulsa then, I'd wouldn't have had those last few months with her before she died. When we moved from the house next door into this one, it was because God needed to make room for Cristy and Jack to move in and grow their family. Because of that, we became good friends."
I explained to my son all the times that God had provided a better opportunity for us. We've been in this house for 5 years, and in this neighborhood for 9 years. I actually grew up in this neighborhood. We lived about 4 blocks from where I am now, until I was thirteen.
I had no idea God would answer his prayer (and mine!) so quickly. Two days after the above discussion, I was browsing Craigslist, thinking, "Probably won't be anything new, but if I don't look, I'll miss out on something." Sure enough. There it was. I called immediately, made friends with the landlady, and went to look at the property. It wasn't perfect. Perfection would be too much to ask for, and far more than I deserve. The house is only slightly bigger than what we have now, but it has the added bonus of a second bathroom. It's out in the sticks, the toolies, deep in the country. That's a big bonus. It has 10 acres. That's a huge bonus, but it's also the imperfect part.
You know the saying, "God helps those who help themselves?" Man, do we ever have some work to do. Most of the ten acres is grown over with brush and small trees, and the rest is dead wood and tree limbs that will be have to be hauled, stacked, and burned. It's a long skinny piece of property, and naturally, one of the long sides needs fenced. The house has a wide front porch, perfect for sitting in mornings with a cup of coffee. There is the CUTEST little outbuilding, with electricity run to it, and it will be a great workshop for the hubby, or a tackroom, or anything in the world we can figure out to use it for. But it needs a new roof. I don't mean just shingles, I mean the WHOLE ROOF has to be replaced. And the FLOWERS!!! There are day lilies, irises, hyacinths, all kinds of flowers, but no flower beds. There's a perfect spot for a vegetable garden, if we can dig up the sandstone.
So, lots of work. Nevertheless, we call the landlady and tell her we want it, fill out the app and send it back to her. The next day, we're approved. Out of 12 applicants, we were chosen. Just that fast! Oh my daisies!
So then it's boxes, newspapers, packing tape, and stacks of stuff all over the place. Making phone calls, scheduling utilities to be turned off here and turned on there. Breaking the news to my current landlady. And my Mom and Dad. And the kids. And my friends.
And my Zumba peeps. My wonderful, amazing Zumba friends, with whom I have spent the past year, 3 times a week, partying it up, encouraging, building friendships, and just generally having a blast. I had to tell them I was moving away. I was passing their classes on to another instructor. I know they'll be in Good hands, but I miss them already.
The thought of starting new classes in a new town where I don't know anyone is daunting, to say the least. But didn't I do just that with the classes in Pryor? And look what a blessing it was for me! So I think maybe it will be okay.
So, tomorrow is the big move. We'll move most everything to the new place tomorrow, and sleep our first night in our new place. That's so exciting to me! And a little sad, to be leaving behind a best friend, 200+ amazing Zumba participants, and moving on to the unknown. But God brought me to it, and I know he'll bring me through it. And you can't tell me it wasn't Him. It was God. I'm glad I was listening and watching when He put it in front of me.
I explained to my son all the times that God had provided a better opportunity for us. We've been in this house for 5 years, and in this neighborhood for 9 years. I actually grew up in this neighborhood. We lived about 4 blocks from where I am now, until I was thirteen.
I had no idea God would answer his prayer (and mine!) so quickly. Two days after the above discussion, I was browsing Craigslist, thinking, "Probably won't be anything new, but if I don't look, I'll miss out on something." Sure enough. There it was. I called immediately, made friends with the landlady, and went to look at the property. It wasn't perfect. Perfection would be too much to ask for, and far more than I deserve. The house is only slightly bigger than what we have now, but it has the added bonus of a second bathroom. It's out in the sticks, the toolies, deep in the country. That's a big bonus. It has 10 acres. That's a huge bonus, but it's also the imperfect part.
You know the saying, "God helps those who help themselves?" Man, do we ever have some work to do. Most of the ten acres is grown over with brush and small trees, and the rest is dead wood and tree limbs that will be have to be hauled, stacked, and burned. It's a long skinny piece of property, and naturally, one of the long sides needs fenced. The house has a wide front porch, perfect for sitting in mornings with a cup of coffee. There is the CUTEST little outbuilding, with electricity run to it, and it will be a great workshop for the hubby, or a tackroom, or anything in the world we can figure out to use it for. But it needs a new roof. I don't mean just shingles, I mean the WHOLE ROOF has to be replaced. And the FLOWERS!!! There are day lilies, irises, hyacinths, all kinds of flowers, but no flower beds. There's a perfect spot for a vegetable garden, if we can dig up the sandstone.
So, lots of work. Nevertheless, we call the landlady and tell her we want it, fill out the app and send it back to her. The next day, we're approved. Out of 12 applicants, we were chosen. Just that fast! Oh my daisies!
So then it's boxes, newspapers, packing tape, and stacks of stuff all over the place. Making phone calls, scheduling utilities to be turned off here and turned on there. Breaking the news to my current landlady. And my Mom and Dad. And the kids. And my friends.
And my Zumba peeps. My wonderful, amazing Zumba friends, with whom I have spent the past year, 3 times a week, partying it up, encouraging, building friendships, and just generally having a blast. I had to tell them I was moving away. I was passing their classes on to another instructor. I know they'll be in Good hands, but I miss them already.
The thought of starting new classes in a new town where I don't know anyone is daunting, to say the least. But didn't I do just that with the classes in Pryor? And look what a blessing it was for me! So I think maybe it will be okay.
So, tomorrow is the big move. We'll move most everything to the new place tomorrow, and sleep our first night in our new place. That's so exciting to me! And a little sad, to be leaving behind a best friend, 200+ amazing Zumba participants, and moving on to the unknown. But God brought me to it, and I know he'll bring me through it. And you can't tell me it wasn't Him. It was God. I'm glad I was listening and watching when He put it in front of me.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Who am I? What day is it?
I was having a nightmare. My hubby was cheating on me, and I was FURIOUS. Only it wasn’t my hubby. I mean, I wasn’t married to Reggie. I was married to some other guy, some unknown person, and he was cheating on me. Stupid nightmares. Technically, I guess it way a day-mare, because when I woke up and looked at the clock, it was straight up noon. NOON! Ohmigosh! I can’t believe it’s noon! How did I manage to sleep so late? What day is it again? Tuesday… Zumba at 4pm. Crap. I have so much to do today!
Knock Knock Knock. Crap. Someone’s at the door. Robe, I need my robe. Yes, I’m going to answer the door in my robe, it’s nicer than answering the door naked.
I walk into the living room to answer the door, and I stop in my tracks. So confused. Why does my house look like this? RILEY!!!! Stupid dog, got into the trash. It’s everywhere. And there’s poop. Lots of poop. On the carpet.
Knock Knock Knock. Crap. Someone’s at the door. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Crap. That’s just great. I’m in my robe, someone’s at the door, and my face is all puffy from crying in my sleep. Oh and my hair? Yeah… it looks like I stuck my finger in an outlet.
I look out the curtain to see who’s at the door. It’s Sabrina. I open the door a crack and say, “Look, My house is a wreck, I’m a wreck. I just woke up, so ignore whatever you see." I open the door the rest of the way and let her in. I must have mumbled something else incoherently on my way to the kitchen to start the coffee, but I don’t remember what it was. “Let me just start the coffee, and I’ll get this mess cleaned up.”
The mess. Ohmigosh. My house is a wreck, it’s noon, and I have company. I’m in my robe. GEEZ! What a picture my friend must be forming in her mind.
And then it hits me. It’s Rodney’s birthday. I must look like the most depressed, ragged, wreck of an individual.
I walk back to the living room, and notice for the first time that Sabrina is holding something in her hand. It’s a bag, and has a balloon tied to it that says “Thinking of you!” It’s from Edible Arrangements. My sweet friend has probably been up since the crack of dawn with her 3 kids and homework and and everything in her life, and has taken the time to drive to Tulsa to pick up a treat for me on this difficult day, and I can’t even get my butt out of bed before noon, or have a presentable clean home when she gets here! What a picture! I open the bag, and inside is a box of chocolate covered strawberries. Sabrina is so incredibly thoughtful.
Sabrina can’t stay long, her son is in the car. I thank her, hug her, try not to breathe morning breath on her, and then shut the door behind her. And I realize, my sweet friend picked up all the trash for me. The trash my little demon-dog scattered everywhere. So sweet. I clean up the poop, scrub the carpet, and run the vacuum. The dog is grounded outside. I don’t care if it rains. I’m mad.
I’m so blessed to have people in my life who care. Today is a hard day. Next week, I’ll have another hard day. And then life can get back to normal, because honestly? This day? This day is not how I want my life to be. I don’t want to wake up late, answer the door in my bathrobe, and be incoherent when a friend pops over. I don’t want my house trashed by the demon-dog. And I don’t want to feel this hole in my heart with every beat.
Happy Birthday Bubba. I’ll try to do better next year.
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