Eight years ago, my husband necessarily left an extremely toxic job situation. We were comfortable (well, except for the horrible job part) and cared for. There were benefits and a reasonable salary, but at the time, even the uncertainty of an immediate future without those things seemed better than what he was enduring.
So the decision was made and he spent the next year working a low-stress job at a coffee shop, using his extra time at home to write stories. I admit it was scary for me. I didn’t always trust that our needs would be met. I didn’t enjoy the times when he was in our presence, but inaccessible because of the focus that writing took. But guess what? We ate well, stayed warm and healthy, and enjoyed simplicity. Even though the future was foggy, we both had the overwhelming feeling that everything was going to be ok. We spent quiet evenings together as a young family and Sam spent lots of time pouring stories into our children, feeding their imaginations and introducing them to characters that would someday come to life in the pages of a book, although we didn’t know it yet.
The last eight years have been full. We’ve added two more babies to our family, moved to a new home and watched loved ones suffer with cancer and other life altering injuries and illnesses. We experienced the death of grandparents, and saw families break apart right in front of us. We’ve grown up, little by little, becoming increasingly aware of the sadness and heartbreak that exists in the world. But we’ve also seen beauty emerge from the midst of the darkness. A whole lot of good can come from just a little bit of light, pushing back against all that black.
I know my husband has doubted his decisions along the way. I haven’t always been a picture of support or trust, either. Often I voiced my fears and probably made him feel like he wasn’t enough. I struggle at times with guilt over this. But he is always the first to say something like, “I really think you should keep dwelling on all the ways you have failed. That’s probably the most helpful thing you can do right now.” (Always with the jokes, I tell ya!) But in all seriousness, he is one of the most gracious people I know, quick to see my strengths and my heart, even though I have a lot of fear mixed in.
This past month we have seen the fruit from several years of dreaming and working towards the goal of publishing a book. We took on the task of sharing a wonderful story with the world. (I can say it’s wonderful, because I’ve read the story, and I’ve also seen how it was born.) We were continuously reminded of how many people are in our corner. For weeks now, we’ve seen the names of people we know and people we don’t, pledging to buy the book before it is even in print.
We planned a party and scheduled it for the day after the Kickstarter campaign began. What was intended as a way to encourage our friends and family to spread the word about the book ended up as a celebration of already having met our initial goal. Unbelievable. (Also, there were cookies.)
When I think back on the day that he walked away from that awful job and how discouraging that time was for us, it is such a great reminder to me of how faithful God has been and how He had the bigger picture in view the whole time. Uncertainty is difficult, but He constantly brings to mind all the ways our needs are met or exceeded along the way. It’s beautiful, and something I won’t forget in this lifetime.
As of today, there are only 7 days left in this campaign. Although you will be able to purchase the book after it is over, this is the last chance to jump on board to be among the first to get your hands on this gem. Come be a part of this experience with us! We’re so grateful for all the encouragement we’ve received so far.
(All the party pics and my featured image at the top were all taken by my awesome brother/sister-in-law, Josiah and Jessi)