We found out in October, that my company had been purchased by Sprint–on vacation, no less. We gave momentary consideration to the fact that we could consider different schools (and different states) for Dorian now, since my transfer was no longer guaranteed, but ultimately decided that we’d stick it out with Iowa since Dorian had been accepted to Palmer. We absorbed the shock, decided to ignore the news and enjoy the rest of our trip, and were assured upon returning to work the following week that I had every reason to believe that my job transfer would be secure.
Even though the events that followed at work didn’t seem to support that confirmation, we moved forward with researching the area and looking for apartments. We decided to visit in the beginning of November.
The market for apartment homes in Iowa was atrocious. Completely disheartening. The affordable monthly payments were for apartments that were trashed and poorly located. The other affordable payments were for glamorous apartments located perfectly… but only available to those with lower incomes. We missed the income-bracket by $2,000. The decent apartments that were located in somewhat decent areas had monster price tags attached. And then, of course, the wonderful apartments in perfect locations were the owners of monthly payments that dwarfed the other “monster” payments.
The visit to the Palmer campus left Dorian with an anxious knot in his stomach and clammy hands rather than the butterflied, nervous anticipation he had expected. The one-and-only church we could locate was of the ultra-mega-located-in-a-mall, variety. We were willing to give it a shot, but it left us feeling unsettled that there were no other churches to be found in the area. We Googled the crime-rate. It’s Red level was astronomical.
The first two hours of our drive home were blanketed in a heavy silence. We couldn’t bring ourselves to give a voice to our concerns. When we did talk, we put on a happy face.
It wasn’t until a week later–when Dorian caught me Googling apartments in Georgia… because, what if? What if we threw all comfort and all caution to the wind? What if we actually considered a different university, rather than going with a school just because my job could transfer to the same city? What if we stopped allowing fear of the unknown rule all of our decisions?–that we actually talked about what we’d experienced in Iowa. We realized that we were both in the very same, Knot In the Pit of Our Stomach, place. And we realized that maybe the “safe” decision wasn’t worth that kind of ache.
We started researching Life University and apartments in Georgia in true earnest. We decided that we needed to talk to our Pastor about this decision because we were wary of finding Georgia so appealing simply because Iowa had been such a disappointment. We didn’t want to turn our backs on what had seemed to be so obviously God’s direction toward Iowa; but we also did not want to be blind to His leading away from it. After our talk with Pastor, we decided to fast for a month. We both fasted from all internet aside from what was required of us for work… and Diet Coke. (Yes, Diet Coke. I wasn’t even going to mention it because of the responses that I’m sure were instantaneous. But please, no comments. I still don’t agree with you). (But since we’re talking about it now, I’m just going to have to say that it was not difficult to give up, at all. I didn’t even miss it. The End).
Fasting was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. To be constantly aware of the need for prayer and submission to the Lord’s will is an experience I will never trade and one that I will now pursue regularly. Our God answers prayer and He absolutely answered ours. The answers were not obvious or easy. They did not come loudly or with any kind of pomp. They came slowly and softly. They came like a peaceful breeze that gently shifted each piece of our logic to stand squarely in the Lord’s path. And one day, Dorian and I looked each other in the eye and just knew…
Georgia. He wants us in Georgia.
And now we’re here.