I brought the kids to my parents last night because we had so many things to do. The stress is showing on the children. They’re crying at odd moments, over little things, and longer than usual. I felt that some time being spoiled by Grandma and Grandpa would be the best thing for them.
As we were about to arrive, Mom informed me she was taking them to the fair in the morning. Perfect! Summer fun is what they should be having. Instead, they’ve been watching their parents wait and wonder, and wait and wonder, and disappear into long, quiet discussions that stop whenever they come into the room. It’s enough to dampen the spirits of even our little cheerful sweethearts.
After the kids were in bed, I discussed the options with my parents. Earlier, I had sent the actual offer to the lawyer. I thought that perhaps if he saw the little time and amount offered to us, he’d advise us to counter offer. The next morning, I woke up to two words from him:
I called Paul and told him. Then, there was the debating. The conflicting feelings. The “on the other hand” kind of phrases going over and over in our minds. We called our friends. We talked again. Then, we waited some more.
I think here’s part of the problem. I think we just need to choose. But my husband processes things at a different speed and I try to be patient with him and not bulldoze over him.
Charlotte Mason says you can convince yourself with proofs of anything, so you must be careful what you choose to accept. So, what should we accept?
I wish we had a path to run on. I wish we had a direction. Why are the heavens so silent? If God is closing the door, where the hell is the window?
Perhaps he wants us to choose. Choose what, though? There are no choices. Choose who we’re going to live with? Choose where we’re going to be homeless? Choose where we’re going to look for a job?
I kind of felt that if we didn’t have a place to go, then I’d just wait. Wait. Wait. Until we have a place to go, then I’d rather stay with the known.
Waiting seems to no longer be an option.