Welp, I guess this is really happening. Our house is slowly filling up with boxes, the Man is counting down his final hours at work, we're starting to say our goodbyes...
And I don't like it.
I've surprised myself these past few weeks in how calm I've been. The Man and I are facing our first life-altering decision as a married couple, yet I've managed to keep my act together. I didn't freak out when he was offered the job; in fact, we both laughed until we cried out of pure joy and praise. There was no questioning whether or not we would pack up and move: the decision was made and we jumped in with both feet.
And then I threw a big noisy fuss.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still just as confident that God is in control and wants us in Louisville. But standing in the Man's closet the other night, sorting through his belongings and packing up his clothes, reality hit: he's leaving this house for good.
The Man walked in to find me in a heap on the floor, sobbing as I held one of his t-shirts. Being the amazing husband that he is, he picked me up, held me close, and whispered in my ear, "I love you. We'll go get some ice cream if you stop being such a girl."
But really, he's right. I've kept my emotions in check for over three weeks now and the overwhelming changes finally caught up to me. (For the record, the Man was making a joke; he's not a complete tool.) I know that everything is going to be ok. I know that we are following the Lord's will and He has a plan for us. I know that being separated from the Man is only temporary. That particular night I just needed a few tears, a pair of sweatpants, and two scoops of Oberweis to help me cope.