Tuesday, July 16, 2013


I stepped out onto the porch to get the dogs' food and paused a moment, listening to the night sounds.  The sound of summer in the South: bugs.  I have no idea what kind of bugs they are, cicadas or crickets or something that, when all put together, sounds beautiful in my ears.

And I wondered, are there bugs that make this song in Montana?  Does Montana have lightening bugs?

Yes, we are moving to Montana.  Northeast Montana.  Closer to the Canadian border than to the nearest interstate.  277 miles away from the nearest Walmart.  Four hours away from the biggest city in the state, which is smaller than Knoxville.

Scary, yes.

We are splitting the 30 hour trip into two 18 hour legs by way of the UP in Michigan, so we can have a vacation and the girls and I can meet the Mechanic's grandmother.  This means we're leaving in two weeks.  Everything either has to be packed into a truck or pod of some sort, or has to be in loadable condition.  And transporting stuff 1800 miles is expensive, so I'm also going to be deciding if we absolutely have to have stuff, if we can wait and bring it later, if we can simply store it here and retrieve it if needed, or if we can get rid of it.

All while caring for my two girls and two dogs as usual, although both girls are now mobile.  Oh, and I'm trying to find a way of caring for my dogs while we look for a house to buy out there, since pets aren't allowed in the company provided housing.

Yes, I said the buy word.  So I'm also researching houses and mortgages and trying to figure out how much we might be able to get loaned to us.

Stressed much?




But, as I told the Mechanic, while we've made mistakes and bad choices, we've never made a bad choice in going somewhere together.  And that's the key.  We're doing this together.  All four of us under one roof.  Every NIGHT.  He will have a day shift position.  *happy dance*

This means we can eat dinner together.  At a table.  (Assuming we decide to take the table with us.  Or that we find one out there if we leave ours behind.)  But together.

This means we can restart our attempt at family devotions/worship.  We can sit on the couch together.  If we have a couch.  We may leave ours behind.

This means we can play together.  Daddy, and Mommy, and kids.  We can go out on the weekends to a park.  We can explore the area, together.  We can look for houses, together.  We can clean, or do dishes, or laundry, together.  Tag-teaming the kids.

This means the two of us get to talk, together.  In person.  Not texting.  Not over gTalk or Skype.  Face to face.

We get to enter the fifth year of our marriage, together.  This is why I'm willing to move to the middle of BFE, going through five states I've never even been in, to live 30 hours away from the nearest family.  Because it means our family can be together.

It won't be easy.  The next two weeks are going to be ugly.  The drive could very well be ugly.  I fully expect to experience some culture shock.  We may hit some bumps in the road, difficulties with loans and homes.  It may be hard to adjust to a different style of church.  It may be difficult to deal with the nearest specialist being 4 hours away.  It may be difficult if we have a #3 and they only have a 20 bed hospital; not so sure how comfortable any of us would be with a third c-sec there.

But I think it'll be worth it.  Because of that one word.  Together.


  1. Wow. Well, know that Montana is a beautiful place. We just took a vacation up there, and I loved it. I hope you guys' move works out well. (And they have bugs, probably as many as the south, although I don't know if they're very loud, and it's only for the few months a year it's warm.)

  2. It looks like fireflies are not indigenous, however there are katydids and about half a dozen species of crickets.


    I like knowing I'm worth more than bugs, though.