The Day Everything Happened
You should know now that I like to plan. I like to have a plan. I like to plan things for other people. Uncertainty is not my friend (or even a distant cousin that I don’t mind to talk to at mandatory family reunions). I can deal with a little spontaneity from time to time and I am addicted to change, but when it comes to major life decisions I like to have all of my options laid out with clear precise understanding of their repercussions. So when we made the decision to sell our little house, quit my job, and move back to Asheville (our hometown) for an indefinite amount of time and without a definite job or income in the interim, it’s needless to say I was terrified, excited, a little worried, and determined to make it work.
We are going to live in a barn.
Not just any barn. An old tobacco barn turned small business office, turned guest room, turned beautiful rustic vaulted ceiling full kitchen with mountain views apartment. It brings a whole new meaning to the sayings “do you think we live in a barn?” and being “raised in a barn”. We will be consolidating our 1500 square feet worth of belongings to a roughly 500 square feet space in the loft of my in-laws barn.
We will help tend bees, raise steer, garden, spend mornings coffee in hand watching the fog lift from the mountains and evenings on the porch sipping local beers, rediscover the little town that we call home, cherish the time we will have with our families and friends before we ship off to some strange land, and relish in the little break that God has so graciously given us.
This is a story of two young professionals who took a huge leap of faith, floated on hopes and dreams of a bright future, and landed in…