. . . the grass is always greener on the other side . . .

“the grass is always greener on the other side . . . “

~

the straight haired girls say, “i wish my hair was curly.”  while the curly haired girls say, “i wish my hair was straight.”

small town voices cry out that their is nothing to do, while the people in the big city long for the quietness of the mountains.

“if only it wasn’t so cold.”

“i wish it wasn’t so hot.”

“if we had the money, we would send our kids to private school.”

“i wish our school had more money for more classes.”

“i wish we had more money.”

“i wish my husband/wife didn’t have to work so much.”

“i wish my kids would stop fighting . . . stop crying . . . just stop.”

“i wish i could hold my child – just one.more.time.”

~

and on and on it goes. . . .

i am no exception.

always wanting more – wanting different.

~

Needless to say, the move to the city has been more of an adjustment than I ever thought possible.  Nothing is the same as it was.  There are so many more choices.  The decisions seem harder.  Nothing feels safe yet.  Nothing feels normal.

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself in Safeway.  That may not sound strange to you, but we have been in Scottsdale for several months now, and I hadn’t been in a Safeway once.  Safeway was really the only grocery store we had in our small Montana town.  Here in Scottsdale, it is a half a mile away from our house, but I hadn’t been . . . there were so many other exciting stores – Fry’s, Target, Albertsons . . . (I think I always choose the thing that is new.)

Through a series of events, though, I suddenly  felt like the world was crashing in around me.  I didn’t know where to turn – I couldn’t breathe.  I felt like I was suffocating and lost at the same time, and I couldn’t get to a Safeway fast enough.

I needed familiar

safe

comfortable

fruit all lined the same

olive bar – flower stand – bakery and deli . . . eggs, milk, hot dogs.

they are all still there.

just like home.

~

It reminds me of the Israelites and their time in the Desert.  God called them away from their homes to a new and better land.  He didn’t actually just call them, but he saved them.  They were in slavery, and God had something new and better in store for them.  He saved them, and as they journeyed to the “promised land,” it became hard.  Their journey became unfamiliar, uncomfortable, scary.  Even though they knew how awful their living conditions were in Egypt, the begged to go home.  They cried out begging to go back to slavery, because at least there they knew what to expect.  They had become comfortable in their chains.

Change is very difficult – even when we believe the promised land is just right there.

I don’t believe that i was a slave – or trapped – in Montana, nor do I believe Arizona in the promised land.  I do have a strong faith though, that God brought us here, with a purpose in mind.  When our family first started the journey, I was excited and motivated to head out, but now I am finding it a little bit more difficult to not cry out to God to take me home.

Safeway

Monday – meal plan shopping for the week . . .

Tuesday – It never fails, even with a plan, something for dinner is always missing . . .

Wednesday morning paper – a once a week local newspaper requires immediate attention.

Thursday morning diaper run – good morning to many other moms getting last minute school necessities – cupcakes for birthday parties . . .

Friday night pizza . . . kids begging for root beer, just this once.

Saturday morning rush to get doughnuts – kids still in their pjs and bed head.

Sunday afternoon – lunch meat for school, check; milk for cereal, check;  fruit and veggies for the beginning of a “fresh-start-Monday”, check.

~

Before we left Montana, there were several other families whom were starting out on new journeys of their own.

Some were moving out of state.  Some were just moving across town. While others still, were starting over in their own home.

As they were leaving the past behind and starting afresh, they asked if I would help to document the place where they were – the past is still a part of our story.

 

 

A wise friend once told me, “The grass is always greener on the other side . . . but you still have to mow it.”

They continued to remind me, “In order for something to stay in bloom, you have to nurture it, no matter what side of the fence you’re on.”

~

Blessing to these families and others as they take on the task of embracing something new . . . .