Looking for a sign.

My husband and I were married this July. The year of our engagement went very quickly. We were both first year teachers, fresh out of college, teaching high school music (him Chorus, me Orchestra). We both had moved out of our parents’ houses to the lovely state of Virginia, me in the mountains, him by the beach. That year was spent traveling back and forth to visit each other, to our parents, planning the wedding, making lesson plans for school.

Need I say stressful??

Among many of the decisions we were making this past summer we needed to move into a place that would fit the two of us, and our two cats. Anyone who has moved and married at the same time knows how overwhelming the process can be.

We had decided for me to keep my job, and for the Hubs to move to my little country town. So in my limited spare time I would drive around looking for apartments/houses for rent. There were very few options: a town house in a complex surrounded by high schoolers (please, after seeing them all day I just want peace and quiet!), a shady looking place in the ‘bad’ part of town. I was starting to think we’d have to make due in my one room apartment!!

Then one day I drove past a house up the street and saw a “For Rent” sign. A decent looking place! So the next time Hubs was in town we went window peaking! Just as Hubs was picking me up to peak in the windows… the neighbor (who incidentally is the land lord’s son… who knew?!) caught us! The neighbor offered to give us a tour of the house, and so we toured, and 3 months later we were moving in.

Now here is when some more stress comes in. The rent for this house was over half my paycheck, and Hubs just quit his job to move to be with me, and we’re paying for a wedding, and school loans. We were really counting on Hubs getting a new job, but with the economy music teaching positions were being cut, not hired; and Hubs ended up working at Lowes (better than nothing right?). Not quite what we were hoping for, but we were making due.

(Warning: abrupt segue)

Our last name is Perry, and when Hubs was a teenager he had many nicknames, Pear Bear, Pear Tree, Periwinkle, etc. I was never one for nicknames, sure I wanted one, but you can’t give yourself one, right?! I wasn’t about to be the kid on the playground who gave herself her own nickname, Lame! So I pretend that I adopted some of Hubs nicknames when I adopted his last name.

(Warning: another abrupt segue… I am going somewhere with this.)

Anyhow my parents were down helping us move into the new place, and figure out what plants were in the yard and clean and all of those moving chores. My mother is a nature fanatic, she knows anything and everything about plants and flowers and birds. It would be normal for her to stare at the bird feeder and note the species of birds that come to feed. On her first trip to VA she shouted “Look! A Pilliated Woodpecker!!” and we all were excited because we know how rare that type of woodpecker is.

I had been talking with Mom about how nervous I was: ‘how can you know if we were meant to be in this town or house; maybe we should have moved back closer to our parents? Or maybe hubs should have kept his job and I move?’

“Did you know everything was going to work out when you and Dad were newlyweds?” I asked her

“You just have to trust each other, and know that God has plans for you.” She said

“I just wish there was a sign to know we’re suppose to be here.”

We continued chatting. Mom would point out that the lilac bush needed trimming, or how beautiful the peonies would be in the spring. I asked her

“Hey Mom, do you know what that little tree is in the front yard?”

“Oh, that is a Pear tree”

And there it was: my sign. The random symbol that tells me “Yes!” Yes, you are meant to live here, yes this is the right town for you, yes you will be okay. The Pear tree, the symbol of our last name, ironically stands in the front yard of the only house that fit us.

Now did a tree make all my stresses go away? No way. But it does serve as a reminder to trust that things have a way of working themselves out. I now refer to our house as “The Pear Tree House” and have named my blog such.

Now we’ve been living in the PT House for 4 months. It certainly feels longer than that. We’ve painted walls, and ripped up carpet (ohh a disaster story for another day!), and weeded, and mowed. We are not in financial ruin, and we are on the whole quite happy!