My dedication to writing a blog seems to be directly related to my computer access. In the years since Michael and I have been together, I have been through more laptops than most people will go through in their lifetimes; my spiritual aura is in conflict with technology energies. (At least that's what I tell myself, instead that I am woefully and inexcusably forgetful and clumsy.)
So very much has happened in the time between this post and its predecessor, but hopefully this will bridge my way into writing regularly again.
The biggest change of course would be our relocation.
Lubbock was where Michael and I met and fell in love, started our family. We made friends, established connections, became involved with a church family. Michael's family (the Roberts portion of it) was centrally located there. Both he and I were cautious, hesitant to uproot ourselves and our children. The longer we stayed, the more we embedded ourselves, finding more and more reasons to settle in for long term.
When growing up, Michael moved around a lot because of parents' jobs; I, contrarily, moved exactly once in memory. My family and I moved into the house next door. My hometown was close knit, small, with a strong sense of community. I loved the predictability, the consistency. The peers that I started Kindergarten with at five years old were the friends that I graduated High School alongside. It was comforting, and I wanted that life for my children.
Our financial status could hardly be considered strong--every year, through God's blessings, we have been doing progressively better. It has been slow going though. We will not soon forget those times of too little, of struggle, early in our marriage and parenthood where there never seemed to be quite enough to go around. That above all else was what held us in place: we had finally gotten our heads above water, and it was with sheer dread and loathing that we contemplated tossing ourselves back into the deep end to re-establish ourselves elsewhere.
Things in Lubbock for us began unravelling though, little by little.
Michael's job took care of us for many years, but it was barely enough to support a family like ours and was not somewhere we could see Michael working at for the long run. Fifty years from now, we couldn't see him still selling cars, and every year invested more into a career and field unsuited for him was nonsensical.
Gabriel was not making progress in the best PPCD program in town, despite being enrolled for two years. He was at the cusp of being moved into the special education kindergarten, and it was time to try something different.
And I? I was struggling, floundering, depressed and overwhelmed with the reality of raising a diabetic daughter, a severely autistic son, and a toddler. There were friends and support groups, Michael's family, and a frankly incredible church (all of which I will be eternally grateful to for helping us make it this far), but I needed my family.
I needed my sister, who adores my children and makes me laugh, makes me happy, makes me remember who I am and who I was and who I will be; a perfect friend who I couldn't love more and who loves me the same. She understands Emerald because she was Emerald, and she loves my boys just the way they are.
I needed my brother, who is patient and compassionate and amazing--we all joke that he is Mom's favorite, and if he is, not one of us can blame him for it because he is our favorite, too. He reaches Gabriel in a way that few else can; challenges me spiritually and intellectually in way that has made me strong and all but unshakable; and celebrates who every member of my family is as an individual without seeking or wanting to change us.
But most of all, I needed my Mom. I wonder if we ever really get over that--when things are hard and scary and tough, when things are falling apart (which is how my every day feels), your mom is where you can go to fall apart. And, when you're ready, she's the one that can help you put yourself back together.
My Mom is unique though in that she genuinely gets it. She understands what I am going through, doesn't tell me how I could be doing it better or shrugs it off like it doesn't matter. She listens, she makes it better. Sure, she makes fun of me for being whiny and needy, but...she knows that I am so busy taking care of everyone else and everything else, that I need someone to take care of me, too. To bring an extra can of tuna and boiled eggs so I don't have to eat tuna salad like everyone else and make my oatmeal raisin cookies with extra cinnamon. To rub my head when I have stressed myself into a migraine; talk to me about things that matter when I'm ready, and things that don't when I'm not. People say "she has seen me at my worst", but no one sees you more vulnerable than your mother, and she still seems to like me.
Moving to Abilene, we got more than those three: we got my beautiful, caring sister-in-law Julia; my intelligent and funny brother-in-law Jud; and of course, my Daddy, my everyday proof of God's love and miracles. My nephews Grayson and Andrew live here, and they are just as cute as you could ever want. There is a noticeable void where my brother Royce is supposed to be, working as he is in the oil fields in West Texas. Amber, Jarrod, Mom, and I are kind of a set though--a group of kindred spirits brought through the fire together. Our life circumstances have bonded us in a way that makes us inseparable, very good friends as well as family.
It also helps that we are massive nerds on wheels that bond over Doctor Who and jokes about science.
Like I said earlier, many little things conspired to bring us to our new home in Abilene. The final nail in coffin though was Emerald's inability to return to Lubbock Christian.
LCS had been so wonderful to us, and we will be thankful to them for the years they have given us. But being a private school meant that they were not able to have a nurse on campus, and with Emerald having Type I diabetes that necessitates glucose tests and insulin shots, she needs to be at a school that has a trained, registered nurse taking care of her. The only other option is taking her out and homeschooling her, which is an impossibility with our conflicting personalities and shared impatience.
At the end of the school year in May, we began to look for a new life in Abilene. ...but that is enough for tonight. More tomorrow of our adventures in moving.
Goodnight!!
--Andie
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