April 26, 2022

We're Moving

I’ve given myself no more than 600 words to tell you our momentous family news. After eleven years in Toronto, we are moving back to the States.

This is an impossible story to tell you with any brevity. I suppose I could begin at the beginning of our Toronto story. In 2011, my husband accepted a different position with his American company in Toronto. We expected, as the company did, that this would be a short-term opportunity for our family, and we were excited about it, especially for our children to have the opportunity to learn French. In our early married years, Ryan and I had been very enthusiastic about an international move. Psalm 67 was read at our wedding, and it has been a guiding light for our 25 years of married life.

Let the peoples praise you, O God;

Let all the peoples praise you!

Let the nations be glad and sing for joy,

For you judge the peoples with equity

And guide the nations upon the earth.

The invitation to move to Toronto seemed very much to satisfy a long-held desire we’d had. We quickly plugged into a wonderful church in Toronto, quickly grew to love our new city. In fact, though our initial visa was only approved for three years, we chose to extend it. Then extend it again. And again. In 2017, we finally gained permanent resident status in Canada. We bought a house. We spent two years planning and completing a renovation on that house. We moved back into the house in October 2019 and planned to stay. Because if you’ve read my work, especially my second book, Keeping Place, you’ll know that I value the spiritual habit of staying put. I believe the work of loving our neighbors well is a work of time.

With lots of imperfect fits and starts, we’ve tried to do that work here in Toronto. Perhaps then you can only imagine the grief of now having to pull up our roots again—and leave. Leave when you want to stay. Leave when there is more work yet to do. Leave when this is your home.

But last July, we saw our families for the first time after more than a year and a half of pandemic separation. What became immediately clear is that we are needed by them. What is clear is that the call to honor our parents began to press heavy upon us. Last fall, we prayed. We explored. We told our community, who began to pray for us.

At every turn, it was clear. Go. There will only be one time to care for your aging parents, and that time is now.

I suppose this gives you clearer sense of what has made me a bit more irregular in sending these letters. In the last six months, we’ve made this huge decision. We’ve bought a house. We’ve sold a house. We’ve applied for admission to a school—in Cincinnati, where we’ll be moving—for our twin boys. This, amidst ordinary life: parenting, writing a book, navigating incredible challenges at our church, beginning the work of assuming responsibility for our parents in new ways.

To say that it has been exhausting would be to significantly understate it. And yet, God has been present and providing at every turn. Providing, first, the very clear confirmation we sought for this decision. Neither Ryan nor I have doubted it, and our marriage has been strengthened by our shared process of discernment.

In the weeks ago, I intend to share more. Not to bore you with our personal story—but to share some of what I’ve learned along the way in making this decision and seeing the goodness of God.

Until then,

Jen

P.S. 616 words. Not bad.