When we decided to make such a huge lifestyle change, uproot our family, and move to Thailand, I wasn’t looking forward to telling everybody.  Don’t get me wrong.  I was very proud of this new life that awaited us.  I believed it to be the right decision.  Our purpose for going was sound.  The organization we would work with is top-notch. I had no reservations with those things.  What I didn’t trust was myself.  Could I actually stay the course for eight months and leave for Thailand in June?

5 years of my children's childhood packed into the bed of a Toyota
5 years of my children’s childhood packed into the bed of a Toyota

I went to Thailand in hopes of making the big decision back in October of 2014.  The choice was solidified in my heart on the journey home, flying over the Pacific.  I remember how emotional that decision process was, how excited I was.  However, upon arriving home, I actually didn’t tell my wife what I’d decided for two days.  I felt that I needed time to make sure that what I felt was real, that it wasn’t some mountain-top experience.  I took some time and discovered that the belief was still there, so I told her and our lives changed forever.

I’d mentioned to my boss, prior to going to Thailand, that there was a possibility that I would resign sometime this year before moving.  It was only a few days that I’d been back to work when he asked what I’d decided.  I couldn’t lie to him, so I told him.  Soon, everyone at work was asking me if the rumors they’d heard were true.  I was congratulated by many.  A few questioned my sanity.  There were many questions.  A lot of questions.  But I didn’t mind them really.  It was reaffirming each time that I answered them.  Saying, “yes, the rumors are true” was a reminder and a gut-check at the same time and, strangely, it helped to solidify the decision to go.

Our dining table and chairs gone, we now eat middle eastern style on cushions on the dining room floor.
Our dining table and chairs gone, we now eat middle eastern style on cushions on the dining room floor.

This last week has been more unnerving for me.  We’ve sold all the furniture.  We’re downsizing the photos.  And fundraising has been off and on for the past couple weeks.  My faith-o-meter has been erratic.  It feels like a constant gut-check.  It feels like I’m having an identity crisis (not too be overly dramatic).  As we make final preparations to move out of our house and into temporary housing, I’m finding my resolve to go to Thailand tested.

This move is becoming more real and doing it requires faith.  I have to believe in the calling, that God is preparing the way for us.  I have to believe in my friends who will give financial support and wise counsel.  But, in the end, I have to believe in me.  Chiefly, I need to believe that I am not defined by failure or success, whether we make it four days or four years in Thailand.  Whether the farm succeeds or fails.  Whether we even get sick and die or thrive and multiply.  I need to believe that I deserve the Good Life, that I have what it takes to live it, and that these sacrifices we’re making to get there are worth it.  And I do.

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