Almost two years ago, I was presented with an opportunity to move across the country for a company I loved. The city in question had been on my “dream” list of places to visit, but moving would be HUGE!

As a single mother, I had many aspects of life to consider before accepting; namely how the move would affect my three amazingly dope children. One preteen smack dab in the middle of middle school, a brand new kindergartener, and a quirky one year old.

I accepted. Hands down, it’s been one the hardest decisions to make to date.

The time frame between saying yes and moving was two months, and to say pandemonium ensued would be an understatement.

Two months and a lot of boxes later, two of my children and I boarded a plane on December 30, 2015 to begin our new life. Yes, you read that correctly. One of my children did not make the initial move.

While the father of my oldest daughter and youngest son was on board with the move, the father of my youngest daughter was not. Despite conversations and research, we simply could not come to an agreement that included her moving with me. That’s a whole separate story for a different day, but it was and is one the most heartbreaking decisions I have made.

My little beans and I began our journey on that fateful December day. In the beginning, adjusting was really difficult, and honestly depressing.

We are a very community-based family and being away from our tribe was hard. But we had each other… kind of.

The first few months were spent just making it day to day in our new environment. Most nights I cried oceans and pleaded with God to comfort and heal my heart. Little by little, peace and comfort became my friends. We began exploring the city and its surroundings, finding parks, museums, and little nooks that reminded us of home.

To our surprise, we found places to enjoy in our newfound hometown. Cold mornings, warm afternoons, and freezing nights made for quite the transition.

When spring break came, we welcomed our missing link (daughter #2) into our world and showed her all of the places we’d discovered. Every evening was filled with loud laughter, bickering, endless eating, and snores that soothed my achy soul.

In those moments, every feel good phrase and positive affirmation I’ve ever heard about “being present” became realer than real to me. We learned to be more present that Spring. We remembered the things we love about each other that summer, and we cherished each moment with each other that winter.

Now that we’ve almost made it to the two-year mark here in Denver, life has a new normal.

I look forward to spring, summer, and Winter breaks with a full house of beans. My children enjoy catching each other up on what has happened since they last saw each other, and I am warmed by the ways they continue to bond and grow together. Despite the odds, our family has thrived through God’s grace.

I took a chance and made a leap without any real guarantee that my new life would pan out.

It was crazy, it was scary, it was courageous, it was freeing. It was all of the things I will tell my children to dare to be.

Life has no guarantees, but if you are brave and willing to take a chance on yourself, I am hopeful that you’ll fly free.

Fly on Mamas.

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