investment and the shoreline

We're heading home to Ohio today (and are so excited!). My mind is trying to wrap itself around the simple fact that we've already been here for four months and the fact that we've only been here for four months.

We could not be more ready to see our families in Ohio and our friends who have become family.

If I'm being honest, though, there is a decent portion of my heart that is a bit nervous. That portion is labeled pride in big capital letters.

There's that prideful part of you that wants to be able to come home with the best of reports, that all your risks were met with wild success and went better than planned. One of those glowing reports that transforms all who ever doubted your choices into enthusiastic believers, and maybe they'd even think they could do it too and that risks were always worth it.

For us, the messy truth is that this risk has been wholly worth it to our hearts but not hasn't always meant wholeness of our bank accounts. And we're okay to admit that. The risk resulted in almost 3 months before I started working and 5 months before Jimmy did. We live with roommates, and that's a bit unconventional for newlyweds.

The whole thing is a bit unconventional.

Last year when we were talking though our options of where to land after June, we knew that in our hearts we wanted to be here. We were also aware that in prioritizing moving across the country to Redding, there would be sacrifice.

If there's anything I've learned over the last few years its that coupled with risk is an ebb and flow of emotions that range from the ecstatic, "I'd live in a cardboard box as long as my heart feels this great" to the victim mindset where you swear all good things have been taken from you. Maybe that's a bit dramatic, but there's truly a swing in the pendulum, sometimes daily. There are moments that you swear you can't take one more step, that your life will never be 'normal' (whatever that is, anyway).

And I wouldn't even classify myself as a very emotional person.

The other day I was talking with a friend about the whole thing, and she reminded me that there has been heavy investment but not that the process isn't through - the profit is yet to be found in all those things we're told make us secure.

Its the part where you've left the shoreline, lost sight of it, and have yet to see the shore on the horizon.

And being in the ocean without sight of land is sometimes scary. But what happens in your heart when you're out at sea - that's the real treasure, the kind that changes life in a way that no paycheck can. The treasure of knowing that you can do it, that you did take just one more step. In fact, you've taken twenty of them.

There are some things that can only be cultivated when you've yet to see the payoff of your investment. Once you're on that end of the process you just don't have to confront all your demons and fears and the lies you believe like you do on those days at sea. And hopefully the process actually changes your concept of payoff anyways. You appreciate the shoreline and landing in a whole new way. Actually, you're free to truly appreciate it because you learned that you can survive without it.

And when we focus on that, the whole "being in process" thing seems a little less hellish. My pride that's fueled by a need for achievement is a bit more quiet and my gratitude for the chance to live this adventure with my best friend wins.