we're moving

It’s been a while since I really took the opportunity our floral chair has to offer, situated next to the big picture window. I forget how much I love sitting here. Funny how just a different seat in the home can provide so much more perspective and room for thought.

I’m sitting and taking it all in. I get the panoramic view of our entire first floor (aside from the enclosed kitchen around the corner.) I see our craigslist couch backed against the big wall—one of its three positions in the 2.5 years we’ve lived in the little apartment. Framed pictures scatter the wall above it along with the oversized clock we bought with gift cards from our wedding. Farther down the wall hangs my huge, beautiful, canvas oil painting that I got from our church’s yard sale when I was in high school. I swear it’s gotta be worth something. It hung in my bedroom back at the folk’s house and it’s been a part of our home while married too now grounding the whole dining room, which flows directly into the living space where I’m sitting. In the center of the dining space rests our wonderful, black-painted, pedestal, beauty-of-a-table. Danny and I scored it at a yard sale last summer and poured way too much effort into painting it ourselves. Miscellaneous, collected chairs sit around it. And the back window looking out onto our secluded alley (aka: parallel-parking lot) frames it all. Antique maps I found and love hang on other parts of our walls. And a conglomeration of Ellen’s play life is mingled in along the perimeter of everything.

There’s a lot more in this tiny space we’ve called home for the past 2.5 years of our life. I’ll omit the other details. Let’s just say this: we’ve lived here. It’s not just a home to our “stuff”. It’s been a dwelling of love, learning, battles, victories, prayers, joys, laughter, and way too many games of Settlers of Catan. We brought our daughter here after she was born; we watched her learn to smile by watching the ceiling fan over the dining table and saw her begin to crawl and then walk all over the mauve carpet. She’s two now and has just recently gotten into the habit of running back and forth in a diagonal line across one of the short lengths of the living room. And then, just three months ago, we brought our son home to this little place. Talk about outgrowing. And not just in square-footage, but in living.

Life has exploded from this place. For 2.5 years. Life has flowed. My husband and I grew into the identity of family here. Our marriage has been here. Much of our pioneering into adulthood has been here, not to mention parenthood. And, oh, how we’ve met Jesus. I cannot even begin.

I’m taking it all in intentionally. I believe God provided this moment because He knew I needed it; because I’ve had fears and He knows how much I need time to process (I’m a processor). I need it because we’re moving.

We’d been looking for a house rental in Medford tirelessly for a while after our son was born. Let’s just say the market here sucks (I can’t say that word anymore though because my daughter’s vocab is quickly expanding.) Earlier on in our search we came across a house we thought in most every way perfect. The circumstances seemed to just about guarantee we’d get it. Our hearts were settled that we’d go ahead and make the deal; if God didn’t want it for us, we prayed He’d make it very clear.

We got the call. Insert “weirdest reason you’ve ever heard for not accepting our family as tenants” and you have, “whelp! Can’t get much clearer than that!” There was comfort in how blatant the door shut because it was an answer to our prayers: God didn’t have it for us so He made it that clear.

Since then nothing else surfaced that seemed right. We made numerous calls and looked at various other places. It seemed so odd that nothing was materializing. We knew that God knew our needs. So we waited. And the search grew tired. And I stepped back to think.

Life this postpartum has not been all daisies and butterflies. My body has seemed to go on strike plotting all kinds of mischief and havoc. I know that sounds rather dramatic, but it’s kind of been one thing after the other. However, it provided a pretty perfect opportunity to press into Jesus like I’ve never had to in my entire life. And I don’t think that’s really a bummer as much as frustrating, hormonal madness seems in itself. No, I haven’t liked one bit of the many little things that have gone wrong or made life seem ridiculous. But I’m sitting finding joy in the fact that God has been walking (more like carrying) me through this exhausting, overwhelming season. It’s these seasons that force you to really deal with that issue of, “Is God really in control?” I’ve had to bank on it and trust in Him.

Getting back to the story, the madness in one way or another (or many ways, I don’t really know) stretched my mental to fully take in our reality here in Medford. There seemed to be a strange weight, a fog, and an uneasiness that I couldn’t shake. I know some of that may easily be to blame on the hormones. But I really felt something wasn’t right and needed to change.

The dynamic in Medford has been one we’d never expected: freeing yet so very challenging. We knew we were meant to be here for these last years. We also knew we wouldn’t be here indefinitely. But we found ourselves letting go of the “what’s next” and just “being” here doing the life God had given us in the Rogue Valley. Nevertheless, the restlessness always came back around. And this time it was different.

One night, Danny and I crawled into bed and I started talking. I found myself voicing ideas from my stirring feelings; I felt as though our life had reached this standstill and there was more to be a part of, more fullness to be had. I was aching for more. I was ready to start a new adventure.

In the days and weeks following, more prayer, conversation, and chaotic life ensued. We had planned a vacation not that long before to visit Spokane in July. Tickets were bought to fly the four of us up there, but we would drive back home in the “new-to-us” car we ‘d be receiving while in town. Danny and I figured this visit would provide an opportunity to feel things out and see if we were supposed to move back. We’d only been talking about it for the last couple years, but it was never the right time. Yet, at the end of the day, our hearts are there; we love Spokane.

Life sped up our “feel-it-out” experiment and all of a sudden we were flying up to Spokane (because of an unexpected family happening) over Memorial Day weekend. It made us wonder, “Is God doing this faster than we thought?” Being in Spokane was like medicine to our souls. It was not only a much-needed respite from our crazy life at home, it was freeing, natural, and right. We left the city after only a few-days visit taking it all more seriously.  This just might be the reality.

And so followed much more conversing and praying and processing. I love my husband all the more for taking my hand and riding the waves of life and forging through all the crazy mental processing that’s taken place the past weeks. There came a distinct shift as our minds settled more and more upon this decision: peace, relief, rejuvenation, and even a freshness with God in the Word. I can’t even describe it; it’s truly uncanny.

And so, we’re moving.

Funny how we’d already purchased one-way tickets.

So about that: it only made sense. We’re flying up in July, Danny comes back to put the boxes and furniture in a truck, and the Porters will embark in a whole new Spokane adventure. We are excited and know that God has much in store. He has cared for us so perfectly and miraculously during our Medford adventure as newly weds and new parents. And so the story goes on.

It’s a process to let go of this tiny little space we’ve called home for just about our whole marriage and parenthood thus far. So many “firsts” here that won’t be going away with the boxes. The memories and experiences keep within this 900 square foot landscape and will revive in photos and mental snapshots of reminiscing. There’s much we’ve grown tired of in this old, completely-un-insulated apartment. But I will still miss it and mourn it.

We praise God for all the friends who became a piece of our Medford home. You’ve each been perfectly orchestrated into our adventure throughout the 2.5 years here. We love you and thank you for loving us. We needed you. And Facebook will make it so much easier to see what’s happenin’ and keep in touch!

To you all, we appreciate every prayer, care, and thought you’ve sent and do send our way. It’s all been a part of God’s perfect work. He is so good.

Spokane, get ready. We’re coming to drink your coffee dry.