Hoooh, boy.

Over a month?! THAT’S how long it’s been since I last recorded?

Sheesh. That’s . . . that’s awful.

If you are frustrated with me, I hear you. I’m frustrated, too.

Would it help to explain that my life has been slightly chaotic? Yeah, I know everyone’s life is chaotic. But my recording “studio” is no longer even my possession.

Here’s the situation: we moved back to Utah nearly two years ago from Maine so we could be part of two of our daughters’ weddings and two of our sons’ babies’ births. When we moved back, I had a clear impression from God that we would be in our rental house for two years, enjoying these milestones in our family. And then . . . ?

The housing market in Utah is the worst in the country. I had been hoping for the past two years that it would cool down.

Nope. The rent on our house went up last year, but this spring it went up another $400/month. And prices for a mere two-story townhome in our county is $425k. Forget a regular house.

I’m a school teacher, making mid-$50k. My husband was an academic advisor at a university, making about the same. You don’t need to be a mathematician to realize the numbers don’t add up to us making Utah our permanent home again. We can’t even make rent anymore.

God gives me insights into my future, but only in snippets. After our initial two years here, He hadn’t shown me what would come next.

Probably because He knew I’d never believe it. That I had to be pretty desperate to do it.

And by March, we were feeling pretty desperate, with every last rental in the valley over $2,000/month, and out of our price range.

Cue the next plot twist.

(Yes, dear Father, I do love a good plot twist, but so many?!)

Last summer one of our sons moved to Florida to help his father-in-law open a few franchises. When the news of our inability to afford living in Utah was shared with our family, one of our adult daughters jokingly said, “Dad should go manage a store” for her brother. After all, my husband has managed big box stores in the past.

We laughed.

Then we thought about it.

And prayed about it.

And got ridiculously excited about it, even though Florida was never a state I’d consider moving to. (And God knew that. Not a mountain anywhere.)

That was in March. By April the decision was made, and for the past several weeks we’ve been packing, including my walk-in closet recording studio.

Three weeks ago I took off a few days of teaching and drove with my husband, sons, and a moving truck to Florida. I left them there. I flew back to Utah so my youngest daughter could finish her school. She has several camps lined up for the first half of summer here in Utah, and since my contract to teach at a residential treatment center requires me to work until July, that works out for her.

But leaves us rather nomadic for a while. We’re house sitting for various friends taking care of their pets while they’re away, crashing for a week here and a week there at our adult children’s homes, and waiting for the day we get to drive cross country (again) to live in our new home in Florida (where we could actually afford to buy something).

My hope is that I can get to recording again, once the dust settles (I’m still cleaning out the last bits from my old rental house this weekend, although I can’t live in it since the carpets were cleaned). I look forward to dull, peaceful days with nothing to clean or pack, just lessons to create for summer school. And maybe I’ll have a few free hours to sit in my car (or an unsuspecting friend’s walk-in closet) and record a few more chapters before my new teaching job at a private Catholic school in Melbourne, Florida begins in August.

I still plan to finish recording these books. I stopped mid-way through chapter 2 of The Mansions of Idumea and Perrin is pacing anxiously in the background of my mind, waiting for his chance to speak again, while Mahrree is more understanding about the hassles of moving 2,400 miles and tells him to just let me figure out where I’m sleeping tonight.

So please forgive my lack of productivity. It’s been shifted to more necessary tasks.

But good news: my new house in Florida does have a lovely walk-in closet.