We’re moving this week. And I have packed three boxes.
Three and a half years ago--two weeks before making the move to Boise (actually, it was even before we knew it was going to happen)—I said to Rick, “Babe, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” We lived in Spanish Fork, UT in another great house we’d put our blood, sweat, and tears into. We had a huge, private backyard that we spent many days and nights in with family and friends. I had a church calling that I loved and we loved our ward and our friends there. We were very comfortable and happy.
Rick and I had been talking off and on about the possibility of a job change for him. There were a couple different positions that he was interested in within his company, and he applied for them, interviewed for them and wasn’t offered either job. We’d decided to put the job search on hold and just continue with what we were doing, when Rick was approached by another company. They were hiring for a managerial position in Boise. He expressed interest and was flown to an interview a couple days later. I remember him calling me right after the interview, talking excitedly about what the job would entail and about what he thought of Boise.
He was offered the job and had to move up to Boise about a week later. We were more than a little overwhelmed, as we had just decided the week before to stop looking for jobs and just stay in Spanish Fork, but we felt like his accepting the job was the right thing for our family. With Rick’s quick, mandatory move, the kids and I were left in Utah to pack the five bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room, family room, kitchen, etc, etc. It was insane. And we were only able to make it happen through the help of our families and friends.
When we got here, I hated Boise. Period. I had just decided that I was the happiest I’d ever been, and felt like I had been yanked from that to a place where I knew zero people and zero about the place. One night while we were at a restaurant for dinner, I put my head in my hands and just cried. I pled with Rick, “Let’s please move back to Utah. Please! I hate it here!!” And I meant it. I just wanted to go home.
Shortly after that, the bishop called me into his office and extended a calling: Primary President. I wondered, “How on earth will I be able to do this? I don’t know a single person. Nobody knows who I am, either.” And that’s when it happened. I realized that the only way I was going to be able to accept the Lord’s call was to stop having a pity party for myself. I accepted the call to be Primary President, prayed like mad to figure out who should be in the presidency with me, and followed the counsel from the Prophet Gordon B. Hinckley’s father to “Forget yourself and get to work.”
That was the turning point for me and Boise. It was a straight up miracle. I went from loathing this new place to never wanting to leave.
Which brings me to our current move. For whatever reason, things have come together in a way that we can’t deny has the Lord’s signature all over it. We had thought about moving for several reasons that I won’t go into, so I put out a call to my neighborhood friends to keep an eye out for rentals. One of them contacted me a day or two later, saying that she and her family were wanting to move closer to her husband’s job, and asked if we wanted to rent their place.
Rick and I were talking this past week and he reminded me of an analogy we’d heard once. Sometimes we feel like we’re walking in a thick fog, unable to see what lies ahead, or even what the end goal is. Those times, the best we can do is to keep going, arms outstretched—or maybe reaching up or folded in prayer might be a better way to think of it--feeling for what’s in the path. In any case, sometimes we just don’t know what to expect. But we can rest assured knowing that the Lord does know what’s in store, and He’ll guide us along the path, when we ask Him to.
Yes, this move kind of happened out of nowhere, and we’re not sure what lies ahead. That seems to be the norm around here. But I’m sure it’s the right thing for our family.
And I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.