For one of my writing classes, I had to write a personal narrative, recounting an experience that impacted my life. While I've been blessed with numerous people and occasions, giving me plenty of memories to put into writing, this one seemed to write itself over the course of the year, taking little effort or time. I thought I'd post it on here, in case some of you didn't really know why we decided to make the move we did.

And because we've been really bad about posting pictures on here, I thought I'd include one of me wearing the new hat I made myself on Sunday. While one of my students candidly reminded me that his mom crochets better than I do, I still like it and am proud of my accomplishment. Happy reading!




Personal Narrative: Open Windows

I once heard, "When one door closes, another one opens. And when that one closes, too, be open minded enough to look for a window." Well, there we were, climbing through a window, being as open-minded and faith-filled as a new couple could ever be.

My husband, Brandon, and I had been talking and hoping, wishing and praying for an opportunity to take together where we could experience a life outside of central Iowa, and ideally the Mid-west, to continue solidifying the foundation of our relationship, and ultimately tuck away some money for the family we'd hoped to have some day. Our search began with hopes for warmer weather, and if Brandon would have had his way, a short drive to the ballpark in Arlington. We focused our attention on metropolitan areas including Dallas/Fortworth, Phoenix, St. Louis and Kansas City. Because Brandon had an opportunity to work remotely, our move relied solely on my ability to find a full-time teaching job. This thought brought stress and pressure on me, not only because we wouldn’t go if I didn’t find a job, but because it’d mean I’d have to leave the middle/high school position that introduced me to the extended family I worked with on a daily basis.

Regardless of what we’d have to sacrifice, Brandon and I decided that our goal to have a family of our own some day would supersede any other goal we had in mind for right now. Eventually we’d have to be in a financial position we felt comfortable with to provide for little ones and that meant moving. As a result, I began updating my resume and all of my online applications in January, only to find that most schools weren't posting vacancies for the following school year until March or April. With generic interest making its way to my inbox on a weekly basis, Brandon and I started focusing less on a move for the current year at the time and more on a move for the following academic year. So you can imagine my surprise, when home with the flu on a Monday afternoon, I received a phone call from a superintendent in the Southwest region of Alaska.

My response to the phone call was mixed: a lot of laughter, a few sarcastic comments and a little curiosity. Reality set in and I was more nauseated by the idea of moving to the tundra than I was from the flu, especially after putting hours into researching districts south of Des Moines. Brandon and I laughed off the idea and skeptically researched this opportunity so we could guiltlessly rule it out. We searched for reasons not to go; but the more we read and talked to others about the opportunity, the more we found ourselves asking, “Why not? When would be a better time to do this? What do we have to risk? What do we have to gain?”

We answered these questions and ultimately decided as a young married couple, with no children, no mortgage and the ability to move with two stable incomes, we’d be able to take advantage of this opportunity with little calculated risk and an opportunity to impact our lives culturally, professionally and financially. We’d have to sacrifice seeing family and friends for an academic year, but we’d be able to come home over Christmas and from mid-May to August if things should work out for a contract the second year. Everything else we’d be sacrificing for this journey would consist of luxuries we’d come to rely on in the hustle and bustle of city-living. And if a village of 400 can survive without these luxuries, so could we, right?

As family and friends learned about the decision we had made, phone calls and emails went from trickling to full-on flooding my free time. Everyone wanted to know what in the hell would possess us to even consider Alaska, let alone sign the contract for the following school year. No matter how we put it, people thought we were crazy. Some people even went as far as to accuse us of being selfish and greedy, trying to guilt us out of moving three-thousand miles away. Luckily for us, we were dead set on going, knowing that the only reason anyone would have reservations about our leaving would be because they'd love and miss us too much to let us go.

By the second week of March, nearly everyone that was near and dear to us knew we were leaving, and plans for our big move were underway. By early April, my letter of resignation was submitted and our tax refund checks, cashed. We budgeted the remainder of our year, placing every spare dime we had into labeled envelopes for shipping, flights, car rental, hotel, food, rent and internet. By May, we had canceled our cell phone service, sold one of our cars and moved out of our own place and into our parents', knowing that we'd need every spare penny lying around to pay for the upcoming expenses. Our flights were booked, and anything we didn't absolutely need was sold, donated or distributed amongst family members to care for until our return.

By the beginning of June, I had created a book of information, including checklists for shipping, emergency contact numbers, banking information, passports, birth certificates and our marriage license. We were carrying our lives in a small portfolio, saving every receipt, and documenting every step we took to get ourselves safely to Alaska. We bundled up what was left of our lives in ten rubbermaid totes and six vacuum space-saver bags, and by our first anniversary, July 4th, 2010, had sent each one out to New Stuyahok, Alaska, hoping they'd be there to greet us when we arrived.

During the month of July, not only did we solidify our commitment to moving to Southwest Alaska, but my younger sister eventually accepted a position in the same district, forcing us to condense 7 months-worth of knowledge and preparation into, at most, two weeks to help her pack. July disappeared, and the closer we came to leaving, the more unprepared we felt in going, even though we knew we had never been more meticulous about the details of an upcoming event. In retrospect, I almost envy my sister for only having a few weeks to stew about moving, knowing that half of the things I spent most of my time worrying about didn't matter.

Just as we knew it would, our departure day crept up on us, making us feel like we still had so much to to and so many people to see before we left that afternoon. We spent the morning shipping off one more bin for Claire, shedding tears with our parents and every other person eves-dropping in our explanations to the postal-service worker, wondering what it was we were sending to Alaska, and why. My mom couldn't choke out a full sentence without thinking about her two youngest children, one-third of her offspring, being 3,000 miles away on "America's Last Frontier." "What if you get sick? Then where will you go? How far is the nearest hospital and how are you going to get there if a bear attacks you?" While my mother never asked them aloud that day, I'm almost certain they were what riddled her brain, as she'd asked them repeatedly throughout the summer. My sense of humor playing on her undying faith was the only way I could respond to her without crying myself, as I hugged her and said, "If I get eaten by a bear, it's what God has planned for me." After a chuckle shared by all, we managed to compose ourselves long enough for the ride to Chicago.

The flight out was more emotional than I had expected, especially considering that I was the one, out of everyone, that couldn't stop the uncontrollable sobs that wracked my body as we hugged one last time. I couldn't stand the look of desperation my parents gave us as we hit the departure gate, and for the first time since signing the contract, I felt like we'd made a terrible mistake. Brandon and I spent the next two hours awaiting a delayed flight, only giving me more of a reason to want to turn back.

After hours of waiting for the delayed flight, our three-leg trip was transferred into a direct flight with another airline at no expense to us. As much as I didn't want to recognize it at the time, it was a sign of the series of silver linings that would come from the sacrifices we had made. Since our move, Brandon and I have experienced our fair share of moments where we're reminded of everything we've sacrificed to be where we are. But for every difficult moment we've endured, we've grown closer as a couple and experienced as much good, if not more, to counteract the low points. I'm really glad we were open-minded enough to sneak out the window and experience the opportunities we have since then.