The Move
One week. One week to pack up our belongings and say goodbye to our church, our school, our friends, and our lives in Washington, DC. That's what we were facing just over a month ago as we stood in our kitchen on a Friday evening and Harvey gave me the news: he had resigned his congressional staff position and we were moving back to Oklahoma to run for U.S. Congress.
I'm overwhelmed as I remember that moment. All the discussions, prayers, and seeking counsel had culminated in action, and the hard work of transition--work that we had just completed a year earlier when we moved to DC--was upon us once again. Packing, boxes, tears, and goodbyes. All in a week's time. Could we do it? Could we handle it? Or would the weight of the sadness for what we were leaving push us to change our minds and stay?
And what was the big rush anyway? Harvey did not want to lose any time getting a campaign up and running. The primary was just four months away at the time, four months to raise money, get Harvey's name out there, and spread the word. The other candidates had all previously held public office, so they would be more recognizable. The more time we took to get back, the more ground we would lose.
We began to share the news. Sunday we made the announcement to our church. Monday the kids told their teachers. Harvey told his coworkers, and I told my friends. They all had basically the same response: a mix of excitement and sadness. As my play-date pal Tessa wrote in an e-mail,
"Man. That stinks. I mean I'm certainly excited for you guys, but was in total denial that this would actually happen!!"
Our children's teachers went out of their way to make the final week special for our kids, having their classmates make them cards, spending time with them outside of school, and throwing them classroom farewell parties on the final day.
As emotional as we were, there wasn't a lot of time for drawn-out goodbyes; there was too much to do. We called on our church family for help with packing, and they came through for us. My friends came over during the week to help pack, and then a moving crew of around eight men spent an afternoon and night loading boxes and furniture into the truck. What a blessing it was to not have to do all this on our own. The church is a gift.
We also had some unexpected help. Our friend Stacey from Ardmore, Oklahoma, offered to fly out to DC to help us pack and load on the final day and drive back with us. We accepted the offer, and I don't know how we would have done it all without Stacey's help. He saved me from having to drive, and he kept me company and helped with the kids, who stuck close to him and his candy stash.
On this trip Stacey also shared with us one of the most peculiar experiences of all of our adventures in life: a meeting in the home of one family with nineteen children who at the time happened to be hosting another family with nineteen children.
Josh and Anna Duggar (you can read about how we met them here) invited us to stay at their house on our final night in Washington, since our beds were all packed up and our house was empty. As we were talking to them that night, we found out that Josh's father, Jim Bob Duggar, was staying in Knoxville at the same time we would be passing through there on our way back to Oklahoma. The Duggars are a politically engaged family who support candidates who share their beliefs and values, and Josh wanted his dad and Harvey to meet, so Harvey spoke to Jim Bob on the phone, and we arranged to meet with him in Knoxville.
We arrived in Knoxville the first night of the trip around 8. We were exhausted, but Harvey believed this would be a great opportunity for us, and it had worked out so perfectly that he did not want to pass it up. Jim Bob had told Harvey that he was staying in the home of a pastor, so we put the address in the GPS, and we followed the voice's directions and headed down a bumpy country road into an area thick with trees. I began to get a bit nervous about the giant U-Haul's ability to handle this terrain, especially when the pavement ended and we hit the gravel. But soon we looked up and saw a big farmhouse with a welcoming, columned front porch. We noticed some kids playing outside. Then Jim Bob appeared, pointing us to where to park the vehicles.
We stopped and got out and began meeting the families. When we opened the front door to the house, we saw kids. Kids everywhere. Kids roller-skating through the living room. Kids climbing on the foosball table. Kids running up and down the stairs. This wasn't the home of just any pastor. This was the home of Gil and Kelly Bates, parents of nineteen children, hosting all but one or two of the twenty-one Duggars. Including ours, there were around forty kids in this house. Stacey, Harvey, and I had to let this sink in.
But we didn't have much time to think about it, because we were swiftly and graciously welcomed in and offered food and a seat. Jim Bob and Gil wanted to hear Harvey's story, and they hushed the kids as well as they could to give Harvey the chance to speak. Our kids disappeared into the crowd, and Harvey told these men about our journey. There were just a few interruptions, but Harvey was able to share his calling and vision, and Jim Bob and Gil were encouraging and kind.
The Bateses asked if we would spend the night with them (what's seven more, right?), but we had already made reservations at a hotel, so we headed back to our cars. As we were leaving, we met Michelle Duggar, who had been resting in the family's bus. This woman (much like Kelly Bates) does not look like she has birthed and raised nineteen children. She was young and fresh and cheerful, a delight. Really, as tired as we were from the ten-hour drive, that whole night--being with those families in a house full of laughter and love--was refreshing.
But we had to hit the road. We spent the night at our quiet hotel and began the fourteen-hour drive to Oklahoma City the next morning. Stacey and I talked about family, church, the Civil War, the Oscars, Breaking Bad, death, and faith. Those final hours in my house in DC had been so chaotic that I didn't make it to the car with any books or magazines to read. And nowhere we stopped along the way had anything I wanted to read. So conversation with Stacey (and a few hours reading his Nook) was all I had to pass the time. And we passed it, slowly but surely.
We arrived at the Schantz house around midnight. (Things were a little calmer there than at the house we'd stopped at the night before.) The next day we would see the house our parents had helped find for us and then sign the lease. And then we would have to get our bearings quickly and kick off a congressional campaign. We survived the move by God's grace, which took many forms along the way: supernaturally efficient packing, meaningful goodbyes, traveling mercies, divine timing, and overwhelmingly generous and serving friends.
Now, about that campaign ...
I'm overwhelmed as I remember that moment. All the discussions, prayers, and seeking counsel had culminated in action, and the hard work of transition--work that we had just completed a year earlier when we moved to DC--was upon us once again. Packing, boxes, tears, and goodbyes. All in a week's time. Could we do it? Could we handle it? Or would the weight of the sadness for what we were leaving push us to change our minds and stay?
And what was the big rush anyway? Harvey did not want to lose any time getting a campaign up and running. The primary was just four months away at the time, four months to raise money, get Harvey's name out there, and spread the word. The other candidates had all previously held public office, so they would be more recognizable. The more time we took to get back, the more ground we would lose.
We began to share the news. Sunday we made the announcement to our church. Monday the kids told their teachers. Harvey told his coworkers, and I told my friends. They all had basically the same response: a mix of excitement and sadness. As my play-date pal Tessa wrote in an e-mail,
Our children's teachers went out of their way to make the final week special for our kids, having their classmates make them cards, spending time with them outside of school, and throwing them classroom farewell parties on the final day.
As emotional as we were, there wasn't a lot of time for drawn-out goodbyes; there was too much to do. We called on our church family for help with packing, and they came through for us. My friends came over during the week to help pack, and then a moving crew of around eight men spent an afternoon and night loading boxes and furniture into the truck. What a blessing it was to not have to do all this on our own. The church is a gift.
We also had some unexpected help. Our friend Stacey from Ardmore, Oklahoma, offered to fly out to DC to help us pack and load on the final day and drive back with us. We accepted the offer, and I don't know how we would have done it all without Stacey's help. He saved me from having to drive, and he kept me company and helped with the kids, who stuck close to him and his candy stash.
On this trip Stacey also shared with us one of the most peculiar experiences of all of our adventures in life: a meeting in the home of one family with nineteen children who at the time happened to be hosting another family with nineteen children.
Josh and Anna Duggar (you can read about how we met them here) invited us to stay at their house on our final night in Washington, since our beds were all packed up and our house was empty. As we were talking to them that night, we found out that Josh's father, Jim Bob Duggar, was staying in Knoxville at the same time we would be passing through there on our way back to Oklahoma. The Duggars are a politically engaged family who support candidates who share their beliefs and values, and Josh wanted his dad and Harvey to meet, so Harvey spoke to Jim Bob on the phone, and we arranged to meet with him in Knoxville.
We arrived in Knoxville the first night of the trip around 8. We were exhausted, but Harvey believed this would be a great opportunity for us, and it had worked out so perfectly that he did not want to pass it up. Jim Bob had told Harvey that he was staying in the home of a pastor, so we put the address in the GPS, and we followed the voice's directions and headed down a bumpy country road into an area thick with trees. I began to get a bit nervous about the giant U-Haul's ability to handle this terrain, especially when the pavement ended and we hit the gravel. But soon we looked up and saw a big farmhouse with a welcoming, columned front porch. We noticed some kids playing outside. Then Jim Bob appeared, pointing us to where to park the vehicles.
We stopped and got out and began meeting the families. When we opened the front door to the house, we saw kids. Kids everywhere. Kids roller-skating through the living room. Kids climbing on the foosball table. Kids running up and down the stairs. This wasn't the home of just any pastor. This was the home of Gil and Kelly Bates, parents of nineteen children, hosting all but one or two of the twenty-one Duggars. Including ours, there were around forty kids in this house. Stacey, Harvey, and I had to let this sink in.
But we didn't have much time to think about it, because we were swiftly and graciously welcomed in and offered food and a seat. Jim Bob and Gil wanted to hear Harvey's story, and they hushed the kids as well as they could to give Harvey the chance to speak. Our kids disappeared into the crowd, and Harvey told these men about our journey. There were just a few interruptions, but Harvey was able to share his calling and vision, and Jim Bob and Gil were encouraging and kind.
The Bateses asked if we would spend the night with them (what's seven more, right?), but we had already made reservations at a hotel, so we headed back to our cars. As we were leaving, we met Michelle Duggar, who had been resting in the family's bus. This woman (much like Kelly Bates) does not look like she has birthed and raised nineteen children. She was young and fresh and cheerful, a delight. Really, as tired as we were from the ten-hour drive, that whole night--being with those families in a house full of laughter and love--was refreshing.
But we had to hit the road. We spent the night at our quiet hotel and began the fourteen-hour drive to Oklahoma City the next morning. Stacey and I talked about family, church, the Civil War, the Oscars, Breaking Bad, death, and faith. Those final hours in my house in DC had been so chaotic that I didn't make it to the car with any books or magazines to read. And nowhere we stopped along the way had anything I wanted to read. So conversation with Stacey (and a few hours reading his Nook) was all I had to pass the time. And we passed it, slowly but surely.
We arrived at the Schantz house around midnight. (Things were a little calmer there than at the house we'd stopped at the night before.) The next day we would see the house our parents had helped find for us and then sign the lease. And then we would have to get our bearings quickly and kick off a congressional campaign. We survived the move by God's grace, which took many forms along the way: supernaturally efficient packing, meaningful goodbyes, traveling mercies, divine timing, and overwhelmingly generous and serving friends.
Now, about that campaign ...
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