Yes, I've moved.

And that makes a lot of people uncomfortable, and for that I'm truly sorry. But I cannot stay in the place where I was. I have made choices, and not many of you are happy with them. I get it: I'm selfish. I'm foolish. I'm crazy. I'm rash. I'm an idiot. I'm throwing away 'the best'...

Thanks. Thanks for 'understanding' that what my life appeared to be for all those years was for everyone's benefit... and that pain isn't always something to be endured. I don't want to explain myself to those who do not choose to accept my path. I have heard your disappointment, I have felt your silent disapproval. You think you know the story-- you do not.

I'm going to keep on blogging, and I'm going to act as if anyone reading it will be happy for my new life. If you're not going to be accepting of me, then don't read it please.

So, yes, I've moved.

I'm living in a quirky little house on a lagoon. It's totally 70's retro, right down to the Fisher wood stoves and gold bathroom fixtures. But every room is filled with light from the abundant windows, and the view onto the docks and boats is charming. Here's the view from the back deck:

I'm still working as a cashier, but trying to get on at the local phone company so that I can make more money and have normal hours. Right now I'm only working 24 hours a week in four-hour shifts that end at 9:30pm. Ugh. The other job would be full time and days. I know that comes with it's own brand of "Ugh" but at least the money is better. I'm trying to make some extra to keep Emily in school for the next year with YWAM.

Getting moved in here is interesting. I've got just a few things: Four plates. Four bowls. Two pots. One pan. Four forks, knives, and spoons. Two coffee mugs. Four glasses. I have some furniture. I have a fouton bed. I have my sewing machine and a crapload of yarn. I have Natalie. She has her bed and her dishes. I have two towels, one washcloth, and a hand towel. There is something very healing in having so little.

The house has a built in credenza, so I have my teapots displayed. They are like little works of art. Each room is mostly windows, so wall space is premium. I have a watercolor print that my sister had commissioned for me several years ago. In it a blue rowboat sits in front of a red-roofed house. I have always been moved by it, as it representsa peaceful place with the chance for escape in that blue boat. It looks perfectly at home on the wall now. And out the window I can see a blue rowboat sitting in back of the neighbor's house... perhaps this summer I will borrow it and row along the lagoon here with Natalie.

I have been in limbo for a long time, and now I am in a place where I can settle in and breathe a bit. Please know that I am doing well. Simplicity is a good place to start. God is good. This Lenten season is healing. I am loved. I have a grateful heart. Life is good.