Happiness in Manassas? ???

Three years ago I wanted to move. Outta Manassas, away from my kid-stifling apartment. And I knew just where I wanted to go. The plan was for my husband to take this first, great job, then transfer to Texas.

If any of you knew me then, you'd agree I was friendly enough, but had a bad attitude about our situation. We belonged in Texas. Family would be (much) closer and finances would be (much) better.

Then my husband and I locked horns. We prayed about staying or leaving, and I had my answer and so did he. We should move! I was convinced. But Adam (in all of his annoying spirituality) just knew we should stay. And I hated him for it. Months dragged on in disagreement. We were barely scraping by, my son didn't have a yard to play in, and I was pregnant with my second and hated the thought of staying in our lousy apartment in lousy Manassas for who knew how long.

*Important note: those of you who have read an earlier post regarding my childhood and how my family did not have the ability to stick in one place longer than a year will understand my natural instinct. Read previous post HERE.

Anyway. This isn't a blog about religion or for me to vent all my crazy emotional experiences or for me to rave about my family, but some of these elements come together to explain where I am now with writing. So be patient. :)

So Adam and I did the one thing we do when we're not in agreement. We attended the temple, and we prayed. We really prayed. And somehow my heart changed. It didn't make sense, logically, for us to stay. We couldn't afford it, I thought family was more important and we should be closer to them. And if Adam could transfer, his job would be just as good. But, of course, someone else knew better. I didn't know why, but the answer was for us to stay. And my fight deflated.

So then in my emptiness, I needed something else to obsess over. I could no longer dream with my brother of the homes we could buy, the opportunities that awaited us in Texas. The fun we could have. My brother's family, two sisters' families, and soon my parents ALL lived in Texas. But since THAT wasn't to be my life, I sat around and dreamt of a fantasy world I'd begun years before putting together.

I'd play with my children, dream of this world, take notes, dream and collaborate with my husband. I was coming up with a story that really held my interest--and his as well--and I didn't want to ruin it. Ethos. Logos. Pathos. They were all powers held by characters but I didn't know their story at first. In the beginning--way before ANYTHING took form--my husband explained to his co-worker what I was trying to achieve and his co-worked looked at him and said, "Oh you mean like Charmed?" NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO. That was not where I was going.

So I daydreamed some more. Created a romance. Wrote about my characters in a setting still close by but still outside of Manassas. The characters lived in Fairfax and certain scenes occurred in Washington, D.C.

Nine months later, I had a manuscript and I wanted to shout from the rooftops that I had an idea for a story that I hadn't seen anywhere before. Aristotle's ethos, logos, and pathos had become super powers and my characters had them.

Of course, I eventually found WiDo and they are helping me tell the very story I meant to tell all along, and it's going to be awesome and I love it, but the point of this post??? Let me tell you.

I had a trial. I wanted to move, and we couldn't. God knew I wanted it. I hadn't wanted something this badly, that I couldn't have, in a very long time, if ever. But my Heavenly Father knew I would find something infinitely better:

I would find myself.

I wouldn't trade this discovery of story-telling--writing--for any silly move. Of course, I still want to be near family, but that can always happen later. I get just a little bit freaked out thinking I may never have turned to writing had we moved like I wanted.

So I am SO GRATEUL someone didn't give me what I wanted. He gave me something better. I pretty much love his gift.