Wrangler Dani

So, we put in an offer on a cute little old house on 13 acres. It got accepted. We had an inspection and quickly realized that wood rot, asbestos and countless unknowns do not a happy home make. We withdrew.

It all sounds so simple and sensible, doesn’t it? Life comes barreling through in the form of fast decisions and stacks of paperwork and tax returns, and we make the measured, mature choices that make sense. We put one foot in front of the other and we pray hard when the path is dark and lonely.

I keep thinking about these days – about how I’ll tell our kids these stories someday – about the old house we loved and lost, and the better one that came along. (Still crossing my fingers for that outcome!) About how I cried for two months because I realized that moving didn’t erase the ache, and now I had no girlfriends close by to distract me from it. About how God was faithful even when I felt like uncertainty and loneliness would last forever, how I questioned and yearned and hoped and wrote pages of thoughts which will never go anywhere but my hard drive.

Yesterday, I walked into Adam’s office. He was playing some kind of terrible pop music, and I was immediately overwhelmed with the need to imitate Beyonce’s amazingly awkward Pepsi dance. (You know the one.) It was terrible and awesome, as you can imagine. I was laughing, he was laughing.

I have to remember, when I tell my kids about this someday: that I want the goofy dances and the laughter and the mid-morning kisses to be part of the story too.