“Is the timer done yet?” My phone dinged after three minutes, signaling my preschooler was free. He’d spent one hundred and eighty seconds in captivity. He kicked and screamed for the first sixty seconds or so, then shouted, “I promise!” and “I’m sorry!” After a second or two of silence, he asked, “Is the timer done yet?” My son is really asking, is it over yet? Is the hard thing behind me? Am I free to get back to normal life? Most of the time, the answer is not yet.
After selling all our possessions and moving our family from Alabama to Alaska for a new job, we spent the first few weeks asking ourselves and one another, “Is the timer done yet”? When does life start to feel normal again? We thought the initial decision to sell everything and move was tough. We had both underestimated how hard it would be to establish our new life on The Last Frontier.
I'm over at Venn Magazine, talking about finding God in the midst of transition.
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