Our life here on the prairie was zooming along at a breathless pace, full of plans and projects and ideas and dreams.
Suddenly it all came to a screeching halt. My Badger lost his job.
We didn't even remotely see it coming. It was like hitting an invisible wall and having the wind knocked out of us. We were totally numb for a couple of days.
Then we asked ourselves, "Now what?"
That is a very hard question to answer. The market for pilot jobs right now is like a large vegetable bin with a handful of small, moldy potatoes in the bottom. The prospect of getting employment that can support a family in another field is even worse, however, so we're probably going for the little potatoes. The bin is so deep that they're going to be hard to reach and it will likely take quite some time.
After much discussion, prayer, and pondering, we have determined that while we wrestle through the job-getting process we need to move back to Utah. We have so much family there to support us. It will be like coming home to recharge.
So suddenly I find myself once again scrounging for boxes and trying to figure out what I can get rid of (sorry, Couch. You're staying in prairie-land.) We're loading up in three weeks-- or sooner, if a job comes up in the mean time. This will be our tenth move in just under ten years of marriage and our fourth interstate move.
My goodness, you feel vulnerable without income.
But I'd rather go through unemployment than a death or a divorce. My children are all healthy and my family is all together. We have plenty of food in the house, thanks to our food storage. And we have enough money, or very nearly so, to get us back home to Utah.
And then we'll go from there.
Even though I have no idea where our next income will come from and how long we will be living on very little, I'm actually excited. I will love living in Utah for as long as we're there. I will love seeing the mountains every time I look out the window. There will still be fall color on their flanks when we get there and then I will get to watch them become covered in their winter coat of snow. I will love getting together with my sisters and my brother and their children. I will love letting my kids play with their cousins. All the precious family closeness that we only ever got a few small rations of on brief vacations will now be dished out in abundance. When I think about these things I am almost grateful that the Badger lost his job.
I can say that because I know that there is a purpose for this. The Badger's entire career looks mortally wounded at the moment, but we will go forward with faith.
After all, switchbacks are the only way to get to the top of the mountain.