This time next year I will likely be sitting in a different house, in a different city, in a different state.
Where? I have no idea.
My husband, Tim, is a doctor in the military, so we will go where he is needed—where we are sent. Sometime before the end of the year we’ll receive a list of job openings around the country (world?) and we’ll have the opportunity to weigh our options and rank which ones we like the best. Then we’ll wait a few more months. Sometime in the spring, we’ll be told where we’ll be sent.
The upside: the Army will send packers and movers to our house to do the wrapping and packing and heavy lifting. The downside: we don’t have much time to plan.
It’s a grand adventure to be sure. It’s also potentially disastrous for a worry-wartish planning type like me. Where will we live? Will we make friends? How will we find a church community?