This is not our first company relocation. It is our third. I thought I knew what to expect. I thought I knew how to handle things. I thought I was a pro. Hah...that's what I get for thinking! Our third go 'round has proven to be a beastly endeavor. To divulge all the dirty laundry really isn't necessary. It would take more time and energy than I have to give. Truth be told, it's probably more information than you want to know AND, since Mr. Snark's bread is buttered by the company who pays for the relocation services, it's best not discussed in this public forum. You never know who sees what, these days. I surely don't want to do anything that will jeopardize Mr. Snark's position. I like eating and shopping and being able to make the house payment.
I can tell you that Relo #3 has been a horse of a different color. And it isn't a pretty color. Not even sure WHAT color comes close, but it ain't purty....not at all. One inspection led to four more inspections, the need for a couple of specialists and a contractor. I have whined and cried and kvetched to anyone who makes the mistake of asking how things are going. I have lost sleep....seriously. Up until about two nights ago, I hadn't slept completely through the night since the first week of September. I've become moderately paranoid about every pop and groan this house has made with the change to cooler temperatures. Periodic crying jags? Check! I even ended up wearing a heart monitor for thirty days...had a stress test, too. Stress test showed that I did indeed have a heart and that it was in good shape. Results from the heart monitor showed nothing more than a rapid heart rate, now and then. (What the heart monitor left behind in residue and major skin irritation was more serious than any feedback it gathered!) I made a joke about it being a pure miracle if Mr. Snark and I didn't need medication before this whole thing was finished. I was only half joking. It's more likely that one of us will be on meds and making weekly trips to Milledgeville to see the other one. (If you don't know the significance of Millidgeville, you're not from Georgia, nor have you ever lived there.) Again, I'm kidding...sort of.
The only thing uglier than Relo Beasty #3 is how I've handled it. "Your joy is not dependent upon your circumstances." So says one of my dearest friends (love you MHW). I have had a hard time remembering that. I have had a hard time with my perspective. The resulting pity party has been an affair to remember! Aren't you glad you weren't invited? I freely admitted the emotional battles I've been having to a friend of mine. Bless her heart...she asked me how things were going and she really wanted to know. In the middle of my bout of rancid word salad, I got SO convicted about my attitude. Instantly, I saw how insignificant these issues truly are. I saw how petty I was. I saw the face of the beast...and it was mine! You see, my sweet friend loses a little more of her best friend...her soul mate...her husband each day. He has ALS. There is no cure...barring a miracle from Jesus and make NO mistake, He is still very much in the miracle business. She's LIVING her vows...in sickness or in health...'til death do us part. The sickness has come and the parting will happen much sooner than they probably ever imagined. It was one of those moments when you wish that the earth would just open beneath your feet and swallow you whole!
I've never been good at letting things go. I'm a worrier, by nature. My mama is...my granny was. I'm genetically predisposed. I'm also good at rationalizing my unflattering character flaws! I'm not a full on control freak, but I have some pretty strong leanings in that direction. In a shaming moment of clarity, I realized just how strong those leanings are! Houses age. Houses need repair. It is what it is. I can't do anything to keep the natural wear and tear from happening. The only thing I can control is my reaction and my attitude. Of course, I can't do that on my own...can't do anything on my own that's worth a flying fig. Obviously...the evidence to that end has been presented! My Jesus has never forsaken me...never. Not even when I've forsake him and that's what I've done with my worrying and obsessing and stressing over things that don't really matter. Ok...they matter. This house has been a blessing to us and we want to be good stewards of it but it's just a house. The money...which truly isn't a great deal of money when you're talking about home repairs...is just money. It's God's money...He provided this job for our family. It's God's house...He made it available to us when we wrangled Relo #2. I've already wasted enough time and energy and a box of hair color on this. I'm done. Onto better things!
Like obsessing about paint colors, bedding and where the Christmas tree will go in the new house! Those are beasts of a much friendlier nature. (Seriously, as long as I don't pick some sort of uber feminine comforter that will require Mr. Snark to punch his man-card every time he gets in the bed, he's good.)
I can tell you that Relo #3 has been a horse of a different color. And it isn't a pretty color. Not even sure WHAT color comes close, but it ain't purty....not at all. One inspection led to four more inspections, the need for a couple of specialists and a contractor. I have whined and cried and kvetched to anyone who makes the mistake of asking how things are going. I have lost sleep....seriously. Up until about two nights ago, I hadn't slept completely through the night since the first week of September. I've become moderately paranoid about every pop and groan this house has made with the change to cooler temperatures. Periodic crying jags? Check! I even ended up wearing a heart monitor for thirty days...had a stress test, too. Stress test showed that I did indeed have a heart and that it was in good shape. Results from the heart monitor showed nothing more than a rapid heart rate, now and then. (What the heart monitor left behind in residue and major skin irritation was more serious than any feedback it gathered!) I made a joke about it being a pure miracle if Mr. Snark and I didn't need medication before this whole thing was finished. I was only half joking. It's more likely that one of us will be on meds and making weekly trips to Milledgeville to see the other one. (If you don't know the significance of Millidgeville, you're not from Georgia, nor have you ever lived there.) Again, I'm kidding...sort of.
The only thing uglier than Relo Beasty #3 is how I've handled it. "Your joy is not dependent upon your circumstances." So says one of my dearest friends (love you MHW). I have had a hard time remembering that. I have had a hard time with my perspective. The resulting pity party has been an affair to remember! Aren't you glad you weren't invited? I freely admitted the emotional battles I've been having to a friend of mine. Bless her heart...she asked me how things were going and she really wanted to know. In the middle of my bout of rancid word salad, I got SO convicted about my attitude. Instantly, I saw how insignificant these issues truly are. I saw how petty I was. I saw the face of the beast...and it was mine! You see, my sweet friend loses a little more of her best friend...her soul mate...her husband each day. He has ALS. There is no cure...barring a miracle from Jesus and make NO mistake, He is still very much in the miracle business. She's LIVING her vows...in sickness or in health...'til death do us part. The sickness has come and the parting will happen much sooner than they probably ever imagined. It was one of those moments when you wish that the earth would just open beneath your feet and swallow you whole!
I've never been good at letting things go. I'm a worrier, by nature. My mama is...my granny was. I'm genetically predisposed. I'm also good at rationalizing my unflattering character flaws! I'm not a full on control freak, but I have some pretty strong leanings in that direction. In a shaming moment of clarity, I realized just how strong those leanings are! Houses age. Houses need repair. It is what it is. I can't do anything to keep the natural wear and tear from happening. The only thing I can control is my reaction and my attitude. Of course, I can't do that on my own...can't do anything on my own that's worth a flying fig. Obviously...the evidence to that end has been presented! My Jesus has never forsaken me...never. Not even when I've forsake him and that's what I've done with my worrying and obsessing and stressing over things that don't really matter. Ok...they matter. This house has been a blessing to us and we want to be good stewards of it but it's just a house. The money...which truly isn't a great deal of money when you're talking about home repairs...is just money. It's God's money...He provided this job for our family. It's God's house...He made it available to us when we wrangled Relo #2. I've already wasted enough time and energy and a box of hair color on this. I'm done. Onto better things!
Like obsessing about paint colors, bedding and where the Christmas tree will go in the new house! Those are beasts of a much friendlier nature. (Seriously, as long as I don't pick some sort of uber feminine comforter that will require Mr. Snark to punch his man-card every time he gets in the bed, he's good.)
Relocation...not an easy thing even WITH a good relo co. Praying for you, friend!!
ReplyDeleteI'm assuming Milledgeville is the equivalent to NM's Las Vegas, where Marti and I plan to live out our waning years.... I understand.
ReplyDeleteHugs