Its moving day.
Brian and his son have come from Bellingham to help us with the move. U-haul trailer. Car loaded up. Ready to go.
Hugs and goodbyes are said.
Off on the journey we go.
It is a 385 mile journey, 6-8 hours.
The things is I can’t drive.
I don’t have my license. I don’t even have a permit. So I can’t even partner up with the driving.
There is nothing I dislike more than being a passenger. I like to be in control. This is not what was happening.
My wife is a fantastic driver. She is an incredible mum.
I am not a good mum. Far from it actually.
I will look at it now and admit.. I wasn’t a good parent at that time. I lost my patience, I got frustrated. To be honest there is no real way that you can solve kids screaming and shouting whilst driving over a mountain pass apart from a movie or melatonin.
We saw a lot.
All incredible sights.
The truth was that we were on a journey to find our new home.
To find our new place in life.
To fulfill what we felt God was calling us to.
To be able to rest in a place where we call home.
So one thing that happens when you spend significant time apart from children… particularly in this situation – two young boys. Consistency out the window.
The next couple of weeks of life is all about adjusting back to family life.
Being dad. Being husband.
Spokane is nice.
Playing with the boys all day, being with my wife as a team. It is a breath of fresh air. It is so welcomed but man it is a shock to the system.
I am slowly finding that it takes two or three times for the boys to listen to me instead of the one it took before.
But what am I to expect the boys are use to just having mum, Gramma and G-pa. I have been skype dad. Text dad. Dad whose discipline doesn’t hold weight, or comforting words have no real meaning. Talking over the phone didn’t hold my kids whilst they cried at night. Talking over the phone didn’t immediately add me to any family days out.
I was not in the family selfies. I wasn’t in the picture.
Nothing hurt more than the first time I realized that my voice didn’t hold as much weight as before… that I would have to reconstruct my position in my family again.
Joy is when your sons run into your room in the morning and wake you up by jumping on the bed.
Joy is when your sons give you hugs and don’t pull away even when the hugs are getting to long.
Joy is being in the selfie with your sons. Being part of the memories. Being with my family.