We closed on our new house at the end of June.  We were excited despite the fear of all the changes.   Abbie, our oldest and only daughter, was with us.  She was ready to start a new life, and we were ready for the life we were living to ease up a bit on my husband. 

He’d been commuting for thirteen years at this point.

I think I’ve told you before, but it bears repeating.

When Jeff was called into work, he would travel an hour and a half to Pensacola or a surrounding airport, wait to catch a flight to wherever he was based.  At this point in our story, he was based in Miami.   Only then, upon arrival in Miami, was he able to “start” work.  His trips always originated at the base he was assigned to.  So, as you can imagine, moving to Greenville was the best decision for us.  It would mean more time at home and less stress for my hard-working husband.

Here’s the part that seemed kind of out of alignment with our goals.

We moved to Greenville even though Jeff was still based in Miami. 

Why would we do that? 

It was a great leap of calculated faith. 

Jeff was moving up the seniority list every year. At this point, we were thirteen years into this industry and had been at American, the bigger jets, for about a year. 

We knew, or we deeply hoped, Jeff would bid for Charlotte as a base, and eventually he would get it. Then all these seemingly unusual decisions make sense.

The only problem?

Charlotte is a very senior base, and at the time of our move, mid 2019, there wasn’t much movement on the pilot list.  Basically, no one was being assigned to Charlotte.  But, as so many times in our lives when we felt God was telling us something, we strongly felt we were supposed to move to this area, and we did, trusting that the details would fall into place.

It was an exciting day when we moved into our house.  We originally thought we’d live in an apartment. But, after visiting the area a few months before we moved, it was clear to us that apartment life wasn’t going to work. 

We were so thankful to have a long-time friend and realtor who lived in the area.  She was amazing as we navigated all the different choices before us.  Ultimately, we chose a house plenty big enough for our college-aged kids to visit.  And, plenty big enough for company, which I hoped to have a lot of. 

I’ll never forget closing day. 

We signed all the proper paperwork and headed out for lunch to celebrate.  We had only arrived the day before, so we knew nothing about this new place.  We found a Moe’s and sat on the patio, a little starry-eyed with all that had happened that morning.

We didn’t know a soul in the area besides our realtor, so we’d arranged in advance for our nephews to help us move in.  They drove for hours to be there and worked tirelessly to help us get all the stuff off our truck and into the house.

It was two stories, and the couches had to go upstairs. I have NO IDEA how we would’ve done any of this without them.  As I type this, I find myself a little teary-eyed, thinking about how they traveled and helped, then left and went back to work.  I will never forget how they helped us.

Once the final box was in the house and our extended family had gone home, we were left with the reality that this was now our new home. 

The quiet felt heavier than I expected.

Home.

What does it really mean?

To me, it’s that place we feel safe and find our community.  The place we can’t wait to get to at the end of the day, the place where family gathers, and the walls carry the hint of laughter and memories. 

But, this place?

Well, it was a house, but home was hundreds of miles away.

Jeff immediately put in his bid request to be stationed in Charlotte. 

Meanwhile, we were unpacking boxes and getting to know this new place.

The airline called Jeff on trips, Abbie got a job at Starbucks, and that left me at home by myself.  It was a difficult time for me.  I wasn’t sure what kind of work I wanted to do; I hadn’t applied for a job in many years, and I felt old and out of practice.

On especially lonely days, I would venture out of the house, find a pizza place or a sandwich shop, and eat alone.  I realized quickly this place was going to be good for us, so much to see and do.  But I also knew it would be a long transition, since we were starting from scratch.

And that idea of “starting over” brought me back to something I’ve learned again and again: miracles sometimes cost you something. I tell my kids this, and I know it’s true because I’ve lived it. 

Our miracle?

There are several, but the one I want to tell you about today is how what we thought would take a year or more happened in a few months.  It was a sign; we’d made the right decision.

Jeff found out he’d been awarded Charlotte as his base, and in record time.

We honestly thought he’d be commuting for a while longer.

We’d positioned ourselves for the miracle, given up many things for something greater, and prayed with all our hearts.

And then, faster than anyone would’ve ever thought, it happened.

Our lives finally aligned with this dream of flying that had started years ago.

We had no idea we were headed straight into some of the most aggressive turbulence we’d ever experienced. 

We all were, though none of us really understood what was coming.

We’d try to plan for everything we could think of, any scenario, but we never once thought about a pandemic.

The world shut down just as our lives opened up.

And suddenly everything we’d been building felt fragile.

It was a time of sorrow, and like so many, we nearly lost everything.

It is truly by the grace of God that we didn’t.

My heart hurts for those who did.

It changed us in ways that will never be the same.

It was just as we were starting to recover, as a nation and world, that God spoke clearly to Jeff’s heart while he was sitting in church.

We didn’t feel ready for another leap, but God has a way of nudging you forward before you’re ready.

It was time.

It felt like another miracle happening on the heels of the last one.

Time to bid for the opportunity to become a captain. 

I have so much to tell you about this decision; it is such a big move, and the weight of responsibility is heavy. 

But after fourteen years in the right seat as a first officer, he was ready to make the move to the left seat and become a captain.

I was and am so proud of him. 

He works so hard and trains so hard.

He was nervous, with good reason.

But I knew he could do it.

Captain Carlson had a nice ring to it.