It finally happened.

It finally happened. I knew it would. I just couldn't foresee when it would overtake me. It happened as I settled into our pew in church this Sunday: I desperately missed the life we had before now.

Life was easier. In my former life, I dressed up during the week to go to work, and I dressed down in jeans for church. As I looked down at my jean skirt this week and realized it is what I now call "dressing up," I missed the way I used to dress.

We've been discussing membership, elder selection, deacons, leadership, and the local church body in our church. We're on the verge of appointing elders, and the responsibility and gravity of the decision is daunting. We had our church's annual meeting this last Sunday, and it was important that we attend... because there aren't all that many people to attend, and every member matters. It made me miss going to our church in DC where Chase and I were two of a few thousand who worshipped together in a service.

Lily's been waking up some at night lately. I think we're at the start of teething, and about every other night she's getting up 2 or 3 times in the night. I wonder, as I lay there listening to her rouse, if I should let her cry herself back to sleep, or if I should sneak in and stick her pacifier in her mouth, or if I should get her up and change her and feed her. It's a question both of what she needs and of what I need. I need sleep to be a good mom, but I need to meet her needs to be a good mom. I don't wake up well - it's dangerous to wake me up when I'm in a dead sleep, so as I stumble into her room still debating, in my partially conscious state, what I'm going to do to get her settled and back to sleep, I secretly yearn for the days when I could sleep when I wanted, get up when my alarm went off, and go about my day without every activity depending on the behavior of my infant. ...And then, as I come to full wakefulness while Lily has her late night snack, I feel guilty that I even entertained that feeling. She is so much more valuable than predictability.

When people ask what I miss about our former life, I often reply that I miss our pay checks. That's the truth. I really do miss those big, fat paychecks that allowed us to go where we wanted, buy what we wanted, eat out when we wanted, and in general, not worry about money. I miss being able to just go to the store on my grocery shopping day and not worry about what I have coupons to buy, what's on sale, or which is brand name and which isn't. I can tell you exactly what I don't miss about our former life: the crazy work hours, the stress of constantly feeling the need to get ahead in an unwinnable rat race, the exhaustion that set in by Wednesday, and the need to do nothing but crash and burn on the weekends. I miss the money, but I have to constantly remind myself that the money came with big, heavy, often overwhelming strings attached to it.

Before we moved back to the Heartland, life was mostly just Chase and I with an occasional visitor or an occasional visit to family or close friends. Everyone was excited when we'd fly home to visit. They'd change their schedules, drop what they were doing, and make time to see us. We avoided almost all family drama, because we were home so rarely, it wasn't worth spending those precious hours with drama, drama, drama. Not so any longer. Now we live smack in the middle of both of our families, most of our close friends, and all of the drama that goes along with both. It's so much more stressful to be this close rather than being 1,500 miles away. I allow myself to get pulled in and involved in ways I shouldn't.

All this hit me all at once this week as I settled into our pew in church. I yearned for the life I had. It was so good. Did I not appreciate it while I had it? I felt guilty that I wanted a crisp, flawless, inspiring church service with a 30 piece orchestra and 100 voice choir mostly made up of professional musicians. I felt guilty that I wanted to just anonymously fill a pew and not be involved in the politics or responsibility of selecting elders. I felt guilty that I was tired of trying to figure out how to help our little girl sleep. I felt guilty that I wanted money and seemed ungrateful for the things we have and the money we make. I felt guilty that I missed being 1,500 miles away from our family and friends.

I'm over it now. I know that God will provide for our needs, for the needs of our church, and for the needs of our Lily. I know that we're supposed to be here in this small town, becoming connected in ways that simply aren't done in large cities. But I felt like I needed to be honest with myself, and state for the record that it happened. I missed life in Michigan. I missed life in DC. I missed life without kids. I missed life hundreds of miles away from where I grew up.

It will happen again over the years. And it will be hard when it does. But I can rest in the fact that I KNOW we came here for a reason, and I KNOW that we're right where we're supposed to be... even if I don't FEEL that way all the time. And I'm thankful that right now, as I sit at my kitchen table to type and my baby girl naps in her crib, I'm feeling again like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be.