I am a worrier. I need to plan, organize and anticipate at least three possible outcomes for every scenario. So taking a leap of faith is as natural to me as jumping off a skyscraper because I think there might possibly be a rescue net somewhere down there. Never gonna happen.
Three weeks ago, I was sitting with a friend sipping a glass of wine at her lovely home while trying to figure out what to do with my life. I was getting divorced, my intended job wasn’t returning my phone calls and getting my daughter the health care she needed felt impossible. I admitted I’d thought about moving back to the Bay Area but feared I couldn’t afford rent.
“My friend has a house for rent,” she said.
“I doubt I can afford it,” I answered.
“Want to see it just in case?”
I shrugged. Why not?
The next day she brought me to a lovely, Italian inspired house with white stucco walls and a red tile roof. Opening the door, she led me inside. My heart melted; it felt like home. The house glowed with sunshine and 1930’s charm. The halls were wide enough for Rhia’s wheelchair to glide through and the view of the bay inspired daydreaming. It was the perfect place to heal a broken heart.
That night, I made a deal with the universe: if my job refused to give me the hours I needed I would apply for the house. Two days later, my job refused. So the following weekend, I met the landlord. And just like that, I had rented a house on the San Francisco Peninsula. Then a few days later, I interviewed for my dream job and that afternoon they hired me. Two weeks later I started school for my second credential while also beginning the process of transferring all of Rhia’s care to a new county.
I don’t know how the transition will go; I don’t have all the information! The paperwork and phone calls and future meetings are overwhelming. But I have to trust that it will work out. Just as I trusted I could afford the house. I found a job that pays the bills, and not only that, it’s a job I love. I’ll be broke for a while, but in time, we’ll find our balance again. Together, Rhia and I can afford our dream house in the wealthy hills of Belmont. We can do it because the landlord is trusting us too.
Rick and I have decided to sell our current home in Ukiah. The new house has an attached studio apartment where he’ll live this winter. He’ll be nearby to help with Rhia and support her transition. She has spent most of her life in Ukiah; this is the house she grew up in and all of her friends are here. The support team the three of us developed over 20 years is here. Who will help Rhia in San Mateo? What kind of support team will be waiting for her in a city? Will her needs be met? Or will she struggle?
This entire transition requires more trust than I’ve thought possible.
This isn’t me! I need to verify and quantify and balance all the pros and cons before making a decision. Who is this woman leaping into the unknown and trusting she and her kid will land safely?
I don’t know, but I like her.
One thought on “Trying Trust”
My heart is joyful. You are an amazing woman and I hope to meet you someday. I believe I could learn some valuable lessons from you….
I remember having to leave you in a shabby motel in Arcata (about 200 years ago) and crying all the way home, having to let you grow your wings and make your life work for yourself.
Leaping off tall buildings never bothered me. It was the landing on my head and heart that killed me. I’m so proud of you. And I’m sorry….