As the leaves change color and the weather cools, it feels more and more like the Madison we moved to just about a year ago on the money. It was October 25 last year that I drove out of the parking lot at Frito-Lay for the last time. We had a good-bye tour – with friends and church family. We packed up the house, turned the key in the lock on the front door and never came home again.
Staring ahead at the road before us, we knew it would be difficult and tried to preemptively remind ourselves to keep the faith. We knew it would ultimately get easier.
Life in a 2-bedroom apartment was no picnic. Work for me was like starting a new school. Work for Andy was elusive at first. I remember making my way to the grocery store on the evening of Day 2 and crying in the produce section. A clerk stopped and asked if he could help me find something – like I was somehow at sea because I couldn’t locate the olive bar.
We started to make the most of it. The apartment became settled. We looked for, and found, our new home. After closing, we used to pack the boys up and come visit the house. There was no furniture in it, just a welcome mat and a roll of paper towel. Sometimes we’d bring food, sometimes not. Mostly, we’d just come sit on the kitchen floor while the boys chased each other through the house and soak in the feeling that it was going to be OK.
It’s hard to believe that was all less than a year ago. Starting new is scary. It’s scary to leave friends and hope you’ll connect elsewhere. It’s a scary thing to quit on sure money and have faith that you were competent enough to find it again.
When we were in the thick of this transition, the Barenaked Ladies song “Odds Are” was in heavy rotation on the radio. It became my theme song. If you’ve never listened to the words, they basically tell you that everything you’re afraid of? It’s probably not going to happen. It’s certainly no excuse to never try. Odds are everything’s going to be alright.
And you know what? Everything totally has.