For Sale.

There is a For Sale sign in our front yard.  We had a showing today.

We have another scheduled for Monday.

We have no where to go... but our house is for sale.  The sign is in the yard.

Michael has a meeting with his boss on Monday about some unknown subject that probably has to do with the fact that he's been bugging HR to accept his request for telework.  He looked through all of the rules and laws ad can't find anything that says we can't do what we want to do as long as his boss is okay with it - and yet they are still denying this request.

I am sure we are being obedient by putting the house up for sale...  but the waiting, the wondering, the whys...  they are sort of exhausting.

My focus has been on living in the present and hoping toward the future even though I don't know what is going on, what will happen, or where our road is going to take us.

There are many questions in my mind.

Should I leave my art studio as planned?  Send the letter to the parents of my students that I'm leaving at the end of May?  Should we continue working on the bus as though we are leaving as planned?

It's the only thing I can think to do - to just continue along the road on which we've been put.

This morning I felt the distinct call to go to a local apartment complex and inquire about the old law that requires children of different genders to have different rooms after a certain age and about their pricing on their two bedroom units.  I did this.  There hasn't been a law on the books about bedrooms and children's genders since the 1950's...  and the prices are what the prices are - and that's all well and good - but why did I need to go there this morning?

I tried to dismiss it as a stupid idea.  I didn't want to go.  I turned toward home and feelings of guilty disobedience washed over me. So I had to go back to the apartment complex and complete the task, even though I felt like a fool.

Now I'm sitting at my studio.

I worked on a self-portrait today.  I wanted it to reflect my feelings about my body, which are something less than positive lately.  It ended up reflecting this just a bit, but my body became a marionette in the picture.  I was a "girl on a string"...  a few strings, in fact - and I'm not sure where that image came from, but it manifested out of my pencils.

I'm glad for this little bit of time to update my blog.  It helps me to sort things out from a mental perspective.  The thing about the bus is that it doesn't feel very mental.  It's certainly not logical.  Logically we should just stay here and be happy with what we have and Michael's well-paying job and my art studio and my classes that are moderately successful and where our kids are comfortable and involved in positive things...

I'm so conflicted.

Isaiah 30:21 has been popping up everywhere.  And since that is the case, I'm trying to listen.  I'm trying to walk.  I'm trying to be aware.  But how can we be SURE it's God's voice?  And what about when he doesn't answer and a decision has to be made? 

Life...  is strange.