I’ve written and rewritten this post several times since June. I’ve pieced it together from brief little moments that I find to write. 10 minutes here, 20 minutes there. And then so much time goes by that what I wrote before is no longer relevant, so I delete it all and start over. So, I’m going to try to summarize as best as I can, and bear with me as some of this is repeated information.
If you missed this post, go back and give it a read. I wrote it at the end of 2025, but didn’t post it until January. The idea of moving away had always been there. Whether we thought it would ever actually happen? Well, I don’t think any of us really did. But by the end of February, we were given an offer. A “lifeline,” if you will. Either we stayed in Stephenville and kept struggling, or we took a leap of faith and moved to New Braunfels, TX.
At first, I was very hesitant. Uncomfortable even. I honestly didn’t feel like I was being called to leave. And truthfully, there are still days when I question if we made the right decision. I wanted familiarity. I wanted comfort. I wanted to keep what was known. I kept asking myself, “Would we be making a colossal mistake? How would this impact our kids? What if we failed? What if things got worse?” I was sick to my stomach for weeks just thinking of all the ways this could blow up in our faces. All of the ways that this could end terribly.
But then, one morning as I stood in our kitchen, I received my nudge in one of the weirdest forms. When my husband arrived home after a 4-hour drive, we sat down to discuss what this would mean. And within a few weeks, everything started to fall into place. We found a house and an offer was made. I received a job offer a few weeks later. We had just enough money for our down payment and closing costs. Our son’s ear surgery would take place before we moved. My dad was randomly offered a job in Stephenville, so Emery would be able to stay with him and finish out her school year. The plan was for my husband, son, and me to move at the beginning of May, and then Emery would follow in three weeks.
Sadly, my husband’s grandfather passed away at the end of April. And as I mentioned in my last post, he was the person who had been behind giving us a helping hand. But in typical Nathan fashion, he had already made arrangements with lawyers and the rest of the family for what would take place once he was gone. That didn’t make it easier, though. We honestly had hoped for more time. More guidance and instruction. But still, we were beyond grateful for what he did give us: a way out of a hopeless situation.
On May 5, I dropped my daughter off at school with a hug and a kiss. Then I dropped off the last of my work items at Tarleton, saying goodbye to my coworkers one last time. We grabbed some food and started the journey to our new city. The following Monday was Nathan's funeral. And the next day I started my new job. Two days later, my son started at his new daycare. And so began the adjustment to our life here.
