How did we get here?! Be sure to scroll to the part about our last home being our “death house.”
I’m sure nobody feels especially prepared for a pandemic, but a cross-country move proved especially challenging. Aside from the fact that neither my husband nor I have never moved more than eleven miles from home, travel details remained unsure, and a mandated quarantine meant we wouldn’t have help unpacking or be welcomed by brand-new built-in friends once we arrived. In addition, local goodbyes were almost non-existent due to stay home orders. This included friends and family we’ve loved our whole lives.
Nevertheless, we left on May 20. My parents accompanied us, which was a fun last-minute change to the travel plans. Our caravan consisted of a Suburban towing a 14-foot trailer, a Subaru, four adults, four kids, and two dogs. We drove 4,583 miles in eight days. We crossed through North Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Minnesota, Wisconsin and North Dakota. Once in Canada, we drove through Saskatchewan, Alberta, British Columbia, and the Yukon. We hit six different time zones. We saw moose and stoned sheep and black bear and caribou and porcupines. We saw prairies and farm land and wind mills and big cities and mountains and rivers and skies so blue they looked painted. It was an unforgettable trip.
But we’re here now! In Homer, Alaska! And there’s a backstory!
Fifteen years ago this week, I arrived to this town lost and confused. I had just met my husband and wasn’t sure where it was going. I had also taken a semester off from college, to figure out my educational future. After applying to a fashion design program too late, I settled on a discipleship training school in Hawaii. It, too, was full but they offered me an opportunity with a new program… in Alaska, of all places.
It was here that I decided to go to nursing school. It was here that I first considered Chris as marriage material, doodling his last name against mine in journals and even naming future kids. It was here, through letters and emails and very expensive long-distance phone calls, that seeds were planted in Chris’ heart for leading worship.
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And now fifteen years later, we’re living here. I’ll be working as an NP at the hospital; Chris has taken a position as worship pastor at a local church. We didn’t expect this, or really even dream it up. But God did. Turns out, his ways are always higher and his plans are always better than ours.