He looked at me and said, "I feel like we need to move earlier. Even though it might be harder, I think it's the right thing."
I sat there for a minute trying to process everything. I worried about the logistics, transitioning in the middle of a school year, a small supply of homes in the winter . . . . and more.
I took a deep breath and said, "OK. Let's do it." Those simple words felt like a mountain of words to say.
I don't know if I've adequately expressed before how once the decision was made to make this jump of faith how the path was made clear, perfectly clear.
About a month ago I received a call from my old neighbor across the street in Oregon. She quickly and frantically asked for our old landlord's contact information because our old house was burning down. There were over a dozen firetrucks at the property. There were popping sounds (most likely from the paint in the garage) as the fire worked its way through the house and eventually engulfed the vehicle on the driveway. The entire house was ruined.
My first thought was unbelief followed by the thought that Jacob and Trevor would have been home alone at that time of day on that day of the week while I had Alexis at swim team practice.
The fire started in the garage from faulty electrical work. My kids rooms were on the other side of the house. The "what ifs" went through my mind all evening and the next day. Had we not moved it would have been us.
The current renters were not home, but lost almost everything.
I know that wasn't the reason we were meant to move to Utah, but the earlier start date? I can't help but think that it was us being watched over.
