Ready to set sail

I was so very excited last night, and I'm not sure why. For the first time in nearly 10 years, I don't have a job. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about something. Two years ago at this time, I was living in a four-bedroom house, full of furniture and belongings. People were everywhere -- at least my family was. As I fell asleep last night, I realized where I was: by myself, in a room in a double-wide trailer, with all of my worldly possessions. Everything I owned in the world could seemingly fit in the trunk of a car. I have no furniture of my own; that's all been auctioned off (I guess); I have no TV, no bed, no chair, no table. Just myself, one small reminder of the kids (a stuffed animal that belonged to Isaac that sat behind the TV in Casper for nearly a year), my recent pictures of them and my clothing. Nothing else. Everything I owned could fit into a small raft. It's like I'm heading out on a lake, and I can't see where it ends or where dry land is. And you know, I'm OK with that, for now. I have to be diligent about applying for school and part-time work, but I think Heavenly Father, perhaps, cleared my path for me, in a way. No distractions about work. Just what I'm supposed to do. It felt exciting and terrifying. Like moving to Idaho in the dead of winter in my pickup. That might happen. Or moving to an unfamiliar city with little more than the clothes on my back. That might happen, too. Or going to class, when I haven't opened a textbook in 13 years. That's scary, too. But you know something? It's also exhilarating and liberating, to know I could be close to Isaac and Savannah, while working toward a tangible goal. That thought brings tears to my eyes. It doesn't matter how many possessions I have with me, just that I have a plan and work at it. This is a chance, I believe, that Heavenly Father has given me. A gift. I won't turn it down again.