Now duh, I know that happens every few years (my dad and brother are probably screaming the answer at the computer screen as they read), but I've noticed it several times throughout this year.
None more poignantly though than Saturday, November 13th.
Saturday became six years since we moved from our beloved home.
(The front view of our house that carefully disguises the garage part in back...)
To give a brief overview, I'm talking about our garage turned house that has it's own scrapbook dedicated to it's four year building plan. It was Mike's dream garage. Mike had the plans drawn up and started before we were even dating. Mike will always say that my comment upon first hearing about his 'dream garage' was 'That's really cool." But in MY DEFENSE, we were just friends and I had no idea we'd ever even date let alone get married....
The whole garage part is too long for this memory and like I said, the building of the garage/house has it's own book of pictures and commentary. (Please note when you look at the book, Mike is always quick to tell you to only look at the pictures, I'm quick to tell you to be sure to read what I wrote about it.)
Anyway, we built the house portion of our house as though we would stay there forever. It had a lot of bells and whistles. We planned to stay there forever. We loved our ward, we loved our neighborhood, we loved the city, we loved it all. And then one day, when Ellie was just a couple of months old, I felt like we needed to move. Mike laughed at first, and then dismissed the conversation anytime it arose. Within a couple of months, he too knew it was what we were meant to do. I'll never forget the first time I heard him ask in his prayers that our home would quickly sell, I knew then that this step in our lives was being guided by a higher power.
We knew where we were supposed to move. We knew it as soon as we saw the location, lot and house plan. It was a backwards step in many ways. It didn't make sense to many people, most of all to us. The only way to get the location we knew we needed to be at was to go through a builder that did nothing custom. Mike was losing his six car garage, I was losing my custom kitchen. Yet we couldn't deny the guidance of the spirit in our lives.
I'll never forget that November Saturday afternoon when Mike and I stood alone in the empty, cleared out house Mike built with his own two hands. As we stood in the barren family room, before walking out the door for the last time, I held Mike while he cried and cried and cried.
Later that night as we laid in bed at my parents house (that became our home for the next five months), it was my turn to cry and cry. I apologized over and over to Mike that I had ever received the initial prompting. I kept apologizing for what I was sure was the beginning of the biggest mistake of our lives.
That day was six years ago.
And though Mike still talks about his old garage space, and Megan still talks about the yellow tube slide out back and I frequently lament the loss of my custom kitchen cabinets, for some reason we are where we are meant to be.
We now know it without a doubt.
And we wouldn't trade it for the world.