Before our wedding days got a tad bit overwhelming. Decore to pick and dresses to alter. Food, drinks, invitations, family, hair, shoes, thankyous, pictures, family, apartment set up, home purchases, family, oh, and The Hubby and I being engaged somewhere in there.

Each person played a spectacular role in the day. And I was such a ball of stress there were many times that rather than choosing the gerbera daisy shade, I was curled up in the fetal position whimpering. Or something to that effect.

There was one woman in particular who knew what to do at just the right time. She worked her magic with the floral arrangements and then took time (randomly) to call me. In these moments she would simply tell me to breathe. Deeply. Slower. Calmer. Okay? Good. Bye.

It was exactly what I needed. Panic erases all human memory of the function lungs are supposed to do. Having that bold reminder of what I instinctively knew saved my ass. Usually panic makes me say or do irrational things. Like bawl when the massive billboard of wildflowers is not removed from the backdrop of the stage we are to GET MARRIED ON IN 12 HOURS!… See. Bad things.

It has taken me a lot longer than I care to admit (erhm) but I am learning the signs of this unwanted panic and I am learning to kick it's rump before it kicks mine.

Example:
Today I was getting anxious. Life is moving rapidly and at the same time standing still. It's not speed that scares me but stagnancy. So that small itsy bitsy worry crept up my spine and sunk it's ripping teeth quite nicely into my brain.
I felt it. It made me grumpy.
And yet I know that worry has no place in my brain. My brain is meant to be creative, fresh, open and absorbing new information. As long as there are miserable thoughts of ick taking over all the goodness halts.

But I have seen miracles in the last few weeks. Serious miracles. Ick doesn't fit in with this picture. It doesn't fit in with hope. And if I lose hope I go back to fetal position panic.

If there's one thing I don't do well, it's going backwards.
Both literally and figuratively. (I learnt my lesson the hard way in grade 9 when I did a backward trot and slipped smashing my head into the floor. Concussion #2. We won't go into #1.)

I am called to trust. Trust I will.

I wrote this last week. But I still feel the same way…
Life will slow down someday. Just not for a few more months…

I am home…
I have yet to see my Munchkins or unpack my well jammed suitcase. I survived the fun and chaos of the Health Show in Vancouver. I soaked up the rolling mountains and stunning architecture. I managed to stay calm during a rough landing in Edmonton and then I lavished.

I spent 4 days lavishing in the beauty that is the family I have through The Hubby.
On the first day Aunt Karen and Uncle Bob greeted us with hugs and tea. On the second day we were surrounded by 7 of the 14 grandchildren (all under the age of 6). On the third day we had 8 of the grandchildren plus 3 from another friend. Not only were each of these kids funny, gorgeous, kind, creative and happy, but their parents were incredible too.

You see The Hubby and I spent a good portion of our honeymoon with this family. And it was wonderful.
There is a passion that flows through their veins that is rarely seen. They are made up of actors and artists, musicians and speakers, writers and caregivers. They all have a desire to seek God in all they do and put family first. They are driven by love and filled with grace. They are raising unique kiddos who are going to carry on their parents faith because it is too inspiring to deny. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

We shared about the life that has happened and is happening. We understood the challenges each other faces, we cried and we laughed, oh did we laugh. And if I could, I would have bottled up everything about them and taken it home with me. I feel rich, like my newly discovered treasure chest is pouring out gold coins for all to have. I feel full, and not just from all the good eats. I feel empowered because I can see God's faithfulness in them. I feel joy because they are my family. And how darn lucky am I to get to call them that.

So I got on a plane today. Sat beside my MIL as we passed the time with movies and cloud watching. We landed in TO, our temporary home where our own immediate families wait. Where I get to spend Easter lapping up the beauty of my parents and my siblings. Where my kids will show how funny, gorgeous, kind, creative and happy they are. And I'll be absolutely in awe because I am filthy , stinkin, ridiculously rich.

Take a moment this weekend. Look past the pile of dishes collecting from the mass of people. Ignore the noise from battery powered toys. Breathe through the slow church plays that the children have a leading role in and just see it all. Really, truly see it all.
It's incredible.

Thank you Jesus.

Tomorrow I will hop on a plane with my MIL and head off to VAN-frickin-COUVER for the first time in my life. I have been warned that I will be amazed, nay, flabbergasted at the beauty of VAN-frickin-COUVER.

My fun will not end there though, because on Monday we fly to Edmonton. (Sorry Edmonton, I cannot bring myself to get frickin over you… ) There we will hang out with some wonderful family. Seriously wonderful.

I am a little excited can you tell, but something strange has happened to me. I am sad to leave my Munchkins. Yes. Me. I said it. The mother who never minds being away from yelping, squealing children, is in fact going to miss their socks off. This age is fun. 5.5 and 3.5 is proving to be thoroughly enjoyable. Down to leg squeezing while walking and tantrums over "uncool" hair before school. My small humans are proving to be awesome future adults. Thankfully Skype will keep me up to date on The Prince's romantic crisis' at school and The Princess' progress with sparkle colouring her new notebook. These things are important people.

With all that thrill, I have more to load on top. Last night the girls were invited (through the one and only Mrs. Melanie Greenwood of Vision City) to attend Wanderlust. A fashion show put on by 2nd and 3rd year students at Ryerson University.

It was incredible sitting in front row seats admiring some stunning designs and interesting pieces.

Next comes Stella McCartney, DSquarded, and possibly some LAMB. Ooo the plans we girls have. Nothing too big ;)

Now excuse me while I go pack...

Now is the time to write.

I tend to be a blurter. It's a disease I've carried all my life. I blurt out "I love you"s, I blurt out when I'm hungry, when I have to pee, when I'm annoyed, when I'm tired, when I'm nervous and when I'm excited. I blurt out everything nice I'm thinking and occasionally restrain myself with the not nice things. I blurt out other peoples news (though this fault seems to be healing with age) but most especially I blurt out my own news. Three months to wait before telling the world I'm pregnant? I think not! Twice I have screamed it from the rooftops and now those two children scream out their own news from the rooftops. But let's be clear, I won't be screaming that again.

So the fact that I have held back from blog-blurting my biggest news is incredible. Award worthy even! Those who are close to us, and the list is long, may want to skip this post for fear of repetition. Those who are completely and utterly lost, continue on...

Back in February, on a regular Sunday, while Martin Smith (Delirious) was leading worship no less, I heard God say:
"I'm going to move you, but not where you expect. Are you ready?"
---Let me make this clear. My faith is such that I believe in an ever involved God who will speak to us and lead us in the paths He has for us. Some call it an intuition, others a word, some have a feeling when God is speaking to them. While I can't claim to have an outer voice I hear, I do know when something is spoken to my heart. A thought, deeper than all other thoughts, completely based in the belief that His will for my life is best.---
Now I am stubborn. I said "No". Usually when I have said "Yes" change comes. And while I would like to think that I always trust that the change is best, I'm human, I sometimes resist it.
After some impressive nagging, I answered "Yes".

Up comes the California trip. The night before I flew out, again I heard God say: "This is what I was talking about."
I (palm-to-forehead) thought, ~brilliant Rebecca, He meant a vacation. Not a full move!
Until I landed. 7 days later I knew what He actually meant.

To shorten things significantly, The Hubby agreed. The families agreed. Our friends agreed and in the last 2 days we have had 4 home showings.

WE ARE MOVING TO CALIFORNIA.

Wow. It feels good to type that.
Oh jeez, and now come the tears.
From me I mean.

Here I was only weeks ago struggling with the concept of moving one hour away from my parents. ONE HOUR. Now we've gone and thrown a plane in the mix.
I am ridiculously excited to go. While we are planning on sometime in August there is a mass of immigration paperwork to be done. Happily done. For the record.
(Do not worry, I will have the same job down there and The Hubby's brilliance will not go unnoticed in one of the Major Mecca's of Musicians in the World.)

The kiddos cannot wait. Every morning they ask when we're going. To them it is an odysseyland and it doesn't hurt that Disney will be close by too. But they can't fathom the distance of their Noe and Popops or Grandma and Grandpa. While I can woo them with ocean and beaches and heat and sunshine I know they'll want to pop up the street for a sleepover some night and I am dreading that conversation with everything in me.
 
And that's where the change hurts. We aren't being called to Russia where the snow drifts put Toronto's complaints to shame. We aren't being called to China, where we don't know the language. We are being called to a surfing heaven and dry heat where bad hair days disappear.

But it hurts like hell to know that skype will host my daily Mom chats and Sister-fixes. I can't pour them tea or get irritated with Mom's insanely long hugs through a laptop. Dad can't fix my door hinge or drop off a bunch of bananas just because he thought we were out. My Brother can't sit at my kitchen table with hot chocolate on some random evening because he thinks I have some advice worth hearing. Skype desperately needs an upgrade before we go.

Today I sat in the floor of my Sis' bedroom and she went through her closets. I looked at magazines, we talked about work, friends, family, food and most importantly clothes. We did the same thing the night my labour began with The Princess. And I left with a little weight on my chest. She gags if I get mushy or sentimental, yet the facts are facts. Lazy Sunday afternoon hangouts are going to disappear for a while. I am the child in the family who doesn't go anywhere. I am the daughter/sister who is at home or close to it. I am the one who planned to stay close to family here while the others went off and lived exciting lives. This is where the shock factor lies. That and the reality that The Hubby and I are not long-range talkers. When we know where we are to go or what we are to do, we get 'er done. The truth for us now, will be the truth for us in weeks, or months, no matter how long we hash it out.

Ugh. I could write about this all day. The friends I've cried over (the many, wonderful, precious, dear friends) the times I've seen my Mom cry in a couple of weeks, or telling my Gran Gran that I'm moving with the full understanding that she is no longer capable of getting on a plane to see me. God, how I love her. She looked right at me, with tear stained cheeks and told me that it is "your time to spread your wings". And then she treated The Hubby and I to Tim Hortons, because that's just what she does. Over 40 years ago she made the decision within 24 hours to move to Canada and landed here 6 weeks later. To this day she says there are no regrets. (And she got me out of it ;))

Wiping my face then typing with wet fingers sucks.
We are saying goodbye to around-the-corner drives and last minute Toronto dates and afternoons at the Lake, but I know that with God leading where we are headed is the place we need to be.
Not an ounce of doubt through the tears.

We're just praying that on the other side of the continent we end up in a home with room for all our loved ones who will be now vacationing in Southern California. We intend on just relocating the party from Pickering to the West Coast.