Everyone seems to be in the thick of something. Full-time-motherhood, grief, wedding planning, college degrees — there's a space that seems to be awfully thick where a lot of people are congregating.
When that phrase, in the thick of it, started popping up all over the place, I couldn't help but wonder what I was in the thick of. I'm a mom but I also work outside the house forty hours a week, and so I don't feel as though I'm in the thick of motherhood. Conversely, I'm careful that my work -- a relatively temporary position -- doesn't take up my heart space, and so I wouldn't say work is my thick place either.
Our family is in a semi-transition mode, and it's not new to us. We haven't really settled in anywhere in a few years, thinking and hoping that the next season would bring further education and potentially a big move. We've bounced from apartment to rental house, from three generations under one roof to a three-person household, and we seem to have lost ourselves along the way. We've become wanderers, never quite comfortable, making our beds in thin places and hoping to stay a little longer before picking up again.
Joey was accepted to two different graduate programs this year, and his choice means he travels through the week to school four hours away, while Rowan and I stay put. [His other choice would have taken our little family to a new, mostly-non-English-speaking province. I'm okay with his decision.] We're getting new windows installed in a few weeks, a laundry room overhaul, finally painting the walls to reflect our lives and style, and putting up a wall to create two bedrooms where our one extra-long bedroom is now. Making room for eventual growth. I can feel these thin places thickening under my feet. Slowly, cautiously -- but more and more each day -- we're allowing ourselves to say we're home.