A Gift for Mom! 🤍

It wasn’t a decision that was made lightly. I didn’t think it would be forever, maybe just temporary. Freshly married, off we went into the unknown, leaving behind our families and the town we grew up in, where we had always called home. It wasn’t easy, but we did it.

That doesn’t mean I don’t miss the place I grew up. That doesn’t mean everything is super easy without any family around to help out. That doesn’t mean my heart doesn’t ache for my kids who can’t just take a 5-minute drive to their grandparent’s house like I did growing up. That doesn’t mean I don’t get teary-eyed knowing grandparents and great-grandparents are missing milestones in our lives I know they’d love to see. That doesn’t mean I don’t ponder on what is lost because we made the decision to move away.

That also doesn’t mean I regret making the decision. It just means it was thoroughly thought out, and it was one my heart had trouble making. I’m glad we made the decision to pack up and move away from all we had known because I think I needed to.

Moving away made me grow up. I had to.

Just because you get married, doesn’t mean you automatically become more mature overnight. When you later have a child, it doesn’t automatically give you a sound mind that makes all the right decisions. (Boy, don’t I wish).

RELATED: It’s Not Easy Raising Kids Without Family Nearby

Moving away taught me to rely more on myself and that I was capable of doing thingseven the hard ones. Moving away made my husband and I rely on each other instead of on our herds of family members in the town we had just left. It gave us room to grow, separately and together, and now I hope it has given our children the courage to see the world.

Sitting here in my home in a state I never thought I would be living in, I’m happy.

We made hard choices and fought many battles to get here, but here we are nonetheless. We have made a new place home, and I love it. I love the fresh faces, new scenery, and previously unheard of opportunity that the new place I call home brings my family. I wouldn’t go back to change a single thing that brought me here and I sure don’t want to uproot my family from the place I’m contently and happily calling home. The place my kids will get the chance to call home as they grow.

RELATED: People Move, But Memories Remain

I never want my kids to think they have to live where I do just because of familial obligation, pressure, or because they thought they never had the chance to leave where they grew up. Part of me thinks my kids may end up in the place I grew up, one day raising their own families. Nothing would bring me more joy than to know they had the courage and freedom to make that choice themselves. If they end up next door to me, I know my heart would rejoice more than anything, but I want them to do it because they want to.

Choosing where to live and raise a family is a monumental decision, and I don’t think anyone takes it lightly.

It’s even harder on the people who choose to lock in on a place that is away from all the people they know and love. It takes courage, heart, and a whole lot of determination. There’s fear, sometimes there is regret, uncertainty, and questioning. Occasionally, there’s longing for the people you love and there are tears when your children ask to go see their grandparents but they can’t.

But, there are planes and interstates. There are family vacations and FaceTime. There are cell phones and landlines. There are stamps for letters and there are packages that can be sent.

RELATED: I Don’t Want a “Forever Home,” Just a Movable Village

There will be love no matter where you decide to call home. There will be opportunities and support, too. You will make new friends who become like family to you, and boy, are they great. There will be long-awaited visits, both coming and going. There will be excitement and sadness. There will be chaos of emotions almost all the time. That’s life. But I can testify, there is freedom in allowing yourself to face the unknown and to chase opportunity.

There will be joy in finding a place to call home for your family.

Seek it.

Find it.

No matter where it ends up being, allow yourself to be happy.

Home is where you make it.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Jordan Morgan

Wife & mama just winging this whole thing one day at a time. I have a love for words, travel, the South, family, Jesus, yoga, and a relaxing swing on the front porch. I try to find humor in all things and keep motherhood real – the good and the bad. My goal is to help women on the motherhood journey feel less alone. You can find me over on my blog at www.jordanmorgan.com on Facebook @jordanmorganwriter or on instagram @mamayogatn

Motherhood With an Invisible Illness Feels Like Surviving in Plain Sight

In: Living
Mother holding sleeping child

There’s a kind of exhaustion that’s impossible to translate. Not the “I stayed up too late” tired. Not even the newborn, up-every-two-hours kind of tired. It’s something heavier. The kind that settles deep into your bones and makes even the simplest task feel like you’re pushing against gravity. Living with Sjögren’s syndrome and discoid lupus while raising young kids means carrying a weight no one else can see, and one that’s almost impossible to understand unless you’ve lived it yourself. The closest comparison I’ve ever found is the first trimester of pregnancy. That overwhelming, all-consuming fatigue where your body feels...

Keep Reading

These Simple Summers Will Live In My Heart Forever

In: Living
Kids playing in water in yard

There’s something I love about summers with the kids, more than any other time of the year. It’s not my favorite season, not even close. But I will always look back on the summers spent with our kids as some of the most beautiful, joyful, yet simple memories of our life together. And that’s just it—it’s the simplicity of summer that makes it so magical. It’s the weightlessness of “nowhere to be,” and the way the kids settle into a routine that’s not a routine at all. I love watching them run through the yard, popsicle in hand, red strawberry...

Keep Reading

We’re Trusting God through Unemployment

In: Living
Family posing by wooden wall

The calendar tells me that almost three months ago today, my husband and I resigned from our joint position as house parents in a residential foster care ministry. Three months of no income. Three months of moving to a new state, navigating new doctors, two brand new schools for our daughters, and a smaller living space. Three months of looking at each other and knowing how hard it is to wait for a paycheck. One day, I dared to check the bank account, and my body quivered when I saw the balance. We had savings, but I am pretty sure...

Keep Reading

Some Friendships Are Not Meant To Last Forever

In: Friendship
Landscape photo

I remember hearing as a child that not all friendships last forever. Back then, I didn’t believe it. Not my friendships. We had grown up together—through elementary school, through high school. We were inseparable. Plans were made around each other, and life felt like it would always look that way. But life has a way of changing things. I became a young mom, trying to figure out who I was while also learning how to be everything my children needed. At the same time, I was still holding tightly to the friendships that had been part of my life for...

Keep Reading

My Sister-In-Law Is the Sister I Always Wanted

In: Living
Two women friends smiling

There’s a very specific kind of longing that sometimes comes with growing up without a sister. Yes, I had half-siblings on my dad’s side, but they were older and out there living their adult lives. My brother and I were always very close despite the age difference. He was the cool, funny, rockstar big brother who was (and always will be) a big kid at heart, and I was incredibly grateful for that. But still, there was always this quiet, persistent longing for something else: a sister. Someone who would be mine in that way only sisters understand. You know,...

Keep Reading

The Life I Love Was Built From the Life That Broke Me

In: Living, Marriage
Family of four

In my early- to mid-twenties, everything felt like it was unraveling. I was depressed, uninspired, dealing with health issues I didn’t fully understand, and carrying the weight of past trauma I didn’t yet have the language for. At the same time, I was wading through a dating pool that felt more like I was unintentionally starring in an episode of Punk’d, all while still carrying the scars of a serious relationship that ended in betrayal—cheating that didn’t just break my heart, but shattered my sense of trust in a way I wasn’t prepared for. For a while, I stayed there....

Keep Reading

My Mom Was Just 13 When I Was Born. Now That I’m a Mother, I See Her Differently.

In: Living
Young girl and teenage mother

There are only 13 years and 11 months between us. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been—how lonely it must have felt at times. A childhood cut short, replaced with responsibilities that were night and day. Confusion and love, all wrapped into one. Growing up, it felt like I had a big sister beside me. A friend I loved with everything in me. But she wasn’t just a friend. She was my mother. I relied on her for guidance, for reassurance, for someone to look up to. And now I find myself wondering, how could she give me...

Keep Reading

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman standing over water

Praying for My Son Send a storm to stop him; Let his friends throw him out. May he drop to the deeps, But gently, please, Stubborn though he may be. If it could only take three days, How my mother’s heart would Rejoice in praise.  From the hell you allow him, Let him cry to you. Is not Nineveh and mercy Exactly what he knows He needs— A mercy on enemies He fears You will concede? Please let all the shade wither If his is an angry soul; Humble him and help him follow Where you would have his purpose...

Keep Reading

I Never Got to Meet My Grandmother on This Side of Heaven

In: Living
Old black and white family photo

Grandmother, I never met you this side of Heaven, but I feel as though I have. Your pictures, scattered throughout my mother’s home, tell your story. Born to a woman who came to this country alone when she was just 16, you would be the youngest of four, with two sisters and a brother. Your short, dark, straight hair clings to your little face, a line of bangs neatly combed high on your forehead. You couldn’t be more than three years old as you sit on a stool at your sister’s First Holy Communion. The black and white photo makes...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Part of Divorce Is Being Away from My Kids

In: Living, Marriage, Motherhood
Woman in driver's seat

I’ve written several times about how divorce has allowed me to find myself again, and how that version is even better than the one I was before I was married. All of that is still true. I am happier than I’ve ever been. More confident and sure of myself. I understand my emotions and how to handle myself when things get tough or scary. I am more grounded and calm than I’ve ever been. Truly, I have come out on top. I’ve received comments about how happy I look, how I’m “living my best life with kids only half the...

Keep Reading