I’m writing over at Friday Night Wives about all those feelings we coaches’ wives feel when we enter a new community. Here’s a preview:
Dear Coach’s Wife in a New Town,
It’s almost spring here in Central, IL which means that any time the sun peeks out I adjust my work schedule and head out for a walk. I was savoring a mid-day workout last week when my mind wandered to you dear friend. It’s moving season. I’ve seen your posts asking for prayer as you interview for jobs, prep resumes, list your homes, say your goodbyes, pack, pack, and pack some more.
I spent some time praying for your moves, for your kids, and for all that lies ahead as you yet again become the new person in town. There are so many good and hard things about moving. So many emotions to process. It’s one of those things we just can’t pray enough about right?
As I wandered past our youngest son’s previous elementary school, I remembered our family’s last move. The first day our son was so brave entering a new school in the middle of 4th grade. He was brave, but he also mourned all he left behind. He missed the familiar. He missed his friends. He missed his home.
I couldn’t help but smile as I walked past his current best buddy’s house. Who would have known that the sixteenth house we chose to look at in our 36-hour whirlwind visit two weeks before moving day would be the one that placed our introverted boy in a classroom with just the friend he needed to eventually help him feel welcome?
There was something else I realized on my walk. As my mind wandered, I did not have to plot out my route. I was not lost. The houses around me are all familiar and I no longer question which turns to take. I don’t need to pull up MapQuest when I end up on a back road that seems to take me in circles. These sidewalks are now my neighborhood.
Head to Friday Night Wives to read the rest