So, I have a confession. This is not the first time we've dared to dream big. Not even close. But as it turns out, we are the world's worst escape artists.
Let's see, first we considered Boulder, Colorado. This was 12 years ago, and I was 6 months pregnant with our first son. We drove 10 hours, through the night mind you, to scout it out and look for jobs and apartments. We were invited to move with a church plant group, and on paper the whole situation was so full of promise and beauty and great intentions. However, I don't think we have ever been more relieved than when we came home and decided that we were not going to be part of the church plant. I've heard Boulder described as a seductive woman who lures you in with her beauty, like a siren's call. There is no doubt it is a gorgeous city, but the move was just not right deep down in our bones.
A few years later we were antsy again and back on the hunt for a great escape. We decided since we loved college towns that we would start narrowing down those that held some promise and were relatively nearby. We left our two kids with a dear family friend and headed to Fayetteville, Arkansas. It hit all the marks of our desired criteria, so we planned an over-nighter. Ha! It took 4 hours to drive there and exactly 3 hours to look around. We turned right around and drove home. We cancelled the hotel room, called the sitter, and headed back to Oklahoma. Needless to say, Fayetteville was not for us.
Next it was jolly ol' England. Ah, the mother country! Unfortunately this great idea was not accompanied by a scouting trip. This feeble attempt at escape came in the form of my going through the ridiculously lengthy process of applying for a Department of Defense teaching job. You see, I lived in England for 3 years as a kid while our family was stationed at Lakenheath AFB. It was my home, it was where my best memories of childhood were formed. I big puffy heart LOVED England and was so sad when we moved back stateside. It got in my blood, I caught the full blown infection. No, I'm not talking about mad cow disease! I'm talking about my deep rooted desire for something grand, for history, for beauty, for majesty, for scenery, for travel. I had myself totally psyched up to hop the Atlantic and start living the dream, but sadly my return just wasn't meant to be. That dream died a pitiful, unceremonious death when they didn't even bother to call. Not a "No thank you" or a "not right now." Just crickets. So disappointing. I did, however, get a call from a school in Japan... so I guess that's something.
Fast forward a few years and it was on to Portsmouth, New Hampshire. I found an article online about beautiful Portsmouth, and I promptly fell madly in love. It's not England, but it's New England... and that ain't so shabby. The whole area is brimming with history, and don't even get me started on the beauty. The tiny strip of New Hampshire coastline is nestled between some of the most amazing scenery Maine and Massachusetts has to offer. With our 3 sons left in capable hands, Husband and I hopped on a plane and headed East. We spent 5 glorious days exploring and falling deeper in love with New England. We oohed, we ahhed, we ate and ate and ate. Oh the seafood! It was the closest we had ever come to actually pulling the trigger on one of our scouting missions. We even went back for a second look just a few months later with the kids and my parents in tow. We wanted so badly for it to work out, but in the end, it was just way too expensive. The harsh reality of a musician and a teacher/photographer trying to make ends meet in New England is bleak. It has a name, it's called welfare.
That brings us to our current escape plan, but I'll save that saga for another day. I'll just leave it with this. Husband and I have spent the better part of our 15 year marriage dreaming and scheming and trying to cut loose from where we are. We have yet to grow content with our surroundings. I wonder if maybe our expectations for life are just too high... but then again, maybe not. Maybe there is some validity to heeding our hearts' cry. It sure is starting to wail, and that has to mean something. Right?
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