I was on the third level of my grandmas house playing in the attic that my uncles renovated. You could see the NYC skyline from the top of her house, which is where I was about to go perch myself, when I was woken up by the pain in my stomach. The in between details don’t matter much, but I worked all day with the stomach ache before driving myself to urgent care and then was diagnosed with appendicitis and needed emergency surgery. You could imagine the thoughts. 💭 did I kiss my kids before I left? Will I have to stay the night? Do I smell? How much will this cost? Will I miss work? How did this happen?

Typical woman. I cried for 10 different reasons when they said I’d need surgery and that day. I also just got my period that morning, and every single health care person that had to ask me when my last period started and I told them “oh today” they all shared their sympathy with me. 

Surgery went swimmingly and I really must say I had a calm wash over me when I did hear the diagnosis because I know how bad it could have been. I also know there are many people, in my life even, that have dealt with and are dealing with, WAY scarier things. But this thing was pretty big and it rocked little parts of my world. But what it didn’t rock was the steadfast commitment my friends and family have in situations like this. My kids were immediately thought of, and nana was the first to arrive. By evening, the kids were fed, warm, safe and snuggled in with some of their favorite people. An impromptu, emergency sleepover serving as a special treat. 

I know that what I just went through isn’t a big deal. But for someone who’s withstood many traumas, I can’t help but feel extremely grateful for being on the receiving end of goodness that just shows up. To sit with me and pray. Ask the hard questions. Ask all the questions. Clean my phone when I drop it in the hospital floor and can’t bend over. Update my work family and add me to a group text that immediately makes me laugh. To be on the receiving end of my sister in law showing up in her bright pink lipstick with the intention to take my jewelry off, my clothes, pack them neatly in a bag, and help slip socks onto my feet. To be there for me while I waited for Dan to come back in the midst of a very chaotic work day for him. Only for her to come again the next day to my house, with oversized pajamas, a cozy blanket, my favorite seltzers and healthy snacks. Then to have all the messages and phone calls and hugs sent through my babies from my friends and family. Another earth angel walking through my back door, loving on my mouthy dog who she somehow tamed into not even bark at her, filled my fridge with my favorite hamburgers, cake, and goodies for my kids.   At the same time, I had two angel people walk in my house to spoil 😭me?😭 I can’t even find the words to fill the void I have to explain what it all means to someone like me. The flowers, food and everything else good continued through my front door today and my heart has been filled to the brim.

You guys know that for 6 years, we’ve been praying for God to guide us on whether or not we should pick up everything and move. But how do you pick up people that pick you up? You can’t. This was our do or die year. Kids are getting old enough where their opinions and mental health *really* matter. This would have been the year to do it. The year to bet it all on the south and go. For our kids, for their education, for a better, warmer life. For six years we’ve had one foot planted in our New York/homeschool life, one foot planted in the fantasy of leaving everything we know, plucking our kids out of their favorite neighborhood, away from their best friends and cousins, and homeschool community for MAYBE a better life? Said who? Me as the stressed out mom? Dan as the stressed out dad? Aren’t most parents stressed? My opinion is yes. We’re in that season. 

The hurricane that hit definitely shook up some of our plans to head south next month. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t shake our souls too. Like, we aren’t built for that? We don’t know what that level of destruction and devastation would do to us as a transplant family. Then this happened to me over the weekend. Truth be told, in August, we put down the conversation of moving south to better focus on our life and goals here. We put down the move, internally so to speak, to focus on life out loud. Does that make sense? Or am I rambling? Many nights we’ve put the kids to bed, and then sat on the couch with a glass of wine and dove DEEP into the hardest parts of the conversation. 

We had never chose to homeschool, we were forced into it. Those of you who know us well, know we used to believe in vaccinating our kids and  now we don’t. We have history on both sides that led us to the decision to stop. My mother’s medical complications and Dan’s history with epilepsy were two prime factors, coupled with the advice of a respected pediatrician who showed us the other side of the information in a very genuine way, and worth noting is, we weren’t looking for the info, it found us. 

I could talk for hundreds of hours on our journey to becoming former vaxxers, and invite anyone who would like to sit and talk with me about it, to do so. With all that to say, I don’t judge anyone for the way they raise their kids, I know as mothers and fathers we come from a place of love in decision making, and I respect your right to make informed choices, and ask for that same respect in mine. With that, we can always have a progressive conversation about ANYTHING. But this wasn’t my point here – though it is a very prominent ongoing topic of talk in my world 🙂

My point in writing this was to say, you can’t pick people up and move them with you. Try as we may, we can’t pick up our village in NY and bring them to the beach so we can send our kids to school. Trust me, we’ve tried 🤣 This last weekend was another answer to our prayers. Moms and dads, aunts and uncles, neighbors and friends, cousins and kids in the neighborhood all helped us out. The things we weren’t even thinking about were covered for us without having to ask. And if you know Dan and I, we’re cut from the same cloth in that we hate asking for help, we hate showing weakness, and we love with all we have. The people who have picked us up when we’ve been knocked down never had to hear us say “we need help” they just came in and helped. And that’s the stuff that money can’t buy. Thats the stuff, that though it can be imitated, it truly couldn’t be duplicated. That’s what faith is all about. That’s what down home, salt of the earth type people feel like. 

With the risk of sounding dramatic, this little roadblock was so much more to us. A small emergency surgery sent ripples throughout our little community. Our little village. And the ripples have returned to us. As love. As community. As an answer to a 6 year prayer. 

Today my kids all sleep til after 9, a gift to them after a weekend full of family, fresh air and probably a little fear in their hearts for their mama. A gift that homeschool gave them. A gift that will echo into their adulthood. No rushing, no waking up for school after a wild weekend. No worrying this morning who would be there for them. Because mom and dad were home. The house was warm. The blankets were snuggly. And we could do school from the couch today. When people ask me what it’s like to homeschool, it’s hard to answer because I don’t know any different. It’s an extension of motherhood for me. It’s an extension of the purpose I have here on this earth. It’s become a central part of how I choose friends, how I view myself and my family, and how I operate through life. Homeschool has been a blessing for my kids and for us as a family to find community in so many ways. I’m thankful just to be on this journey. Tomorrow, nobody knows what it holds or what promises and blessings it will bring. But for today I’m thankful to be here. I’m just so grateful to be here.

Thank you Jesus for blessing me in ways I don’t deserve, and for keeping my family safe and healthy, and most importantly, loved ♥️