A dilemma with gratitude & grief.
*Republishing and updating a blog post from Jan 2025 - still wrestling with the tension*
⬆️ Click above to hear Mandie read this post to you.
Almost a year ago to the day, I typed the story you’re about to read. Before you jump in, I wanted to include a short preface:
As we prepare to depart for Taiwan in just a few short days, we are receiving lots of questions to the effect of, “How are you doing? How are you feeling? Are you excited…” the list goes on. These are totally normal and realistic wonderments as our family is on the cusp of a VERY big change. Honestly, our brief responses don’t typically encompass the myriad of feelings and thoughts that are swirling at any given moment. In the hope of honest transparency, Ryan suggested I share this blog post with you. Again, it’s about a year old, so I’ve made a couple edits to reflect the current timeline. But the thoughts and take-aways hold true. I hope this gives a bit more insight and brings some encouragement to your hearts. Thanks in advance for letting me be open and vulnerable with you. -Mandie
I can honestly say, without reserve, that I never thought I would have the life I’m living.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I have a very cool life. Weird. But cool.
Does that sound like I’m either trying to convince myself or that I’m bragging? It doesn’t matter. Hopefully it reads as sincere, as that is the way I intended it.
That said — I am grappling with something. Maybe more like… vacillating?
Yep. That’s it.
I’m vacillating between gratitude and grief.
How can I embrace my beautiful chaotic life with thankfulness and joy while remaining honest with my feelings and processing all we’ve experienced? It feels like a real dilemma.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
Let me share a bit about my life. Then, I think it will all make sense. Probably. Hopefully.
I live with my big, beautiful family. Husband — Ryan. Five kids. Small dog.
We are currently stateside but having been living abroad since 2018 — minus the lost year and half [thanks, Covid]— when we were back in the US.
We first learned a new language. The husband and I started a couple of businesses together. Homeschooled our kids. Quickly recruited a teacher to help us, ’cause homeschooling is really hard — thank you Emily.
Traveled often, visiting new countries roughly every three months. We tried a ton of new things and met even more incredible people.
In the past year, I took 6,500 photos — the camera role can prove it! I made the sweetest memories and said the hardest good-byes. I laughed. A lot. And I cried even more.
We moved back to the midwest in June 2024.
For now, we’re fairly settled into our suburban life. We work from home. Our kids go to school. I far too often enjoy Target pick-up and our favorite place to eat out is Costco.
But change is imminent.
That sounds intense. I mean, yes it is imminent in life — generally speaking. But in very real terms, many changes are coming quickly.
We have plans to move back overseas in 4 short days. This time to a new continent.
While I’m actually super pumped about this new adventure in a brandnew place, I find myself longing for a completely different life.
*cue instumental trending instagram audio*
Like many ladies my age, I’m picturing life knitting in an English, countryside cottage or making sour dough on a homestead in the middle of Montana.
I want the Slow Life.
The thing is… I don’t actually want that. And — let’s get real, Mandie — since when is “homesteading” slow or relaxing? Not to mention, I don’t know how to knit or bake sour dough bread.
Practically speaking… I really like being around people. I loved living in the city, just a short walk from everything I could need or want.
Back to my dilemma…
My family is living a beautiful story, unique and rewarding. I am truly so thankful to have it.
So why does my heart keep insisting I desire the complete opposite of what I have?
When I first asked myself this question, my mind jumped to “selfishness?” Or better yet, “ingratitude.”
But I don’t actually think that’s it.
I am deeply thankful for all the experiences we’ve had. It’s such an honor to have the opportunities we have been able to enjoy.
Yet…
My heart is longs for stability. Yearns for normal.
I want to see family regularly. I want to watch my cousin’s children grow up. I want my kids to have bountiful, joy filled memories with their cousins.
I want us all together.
In one place.
I don’t want to say good-bye again. My heart aches just thinking about it.
That doesn’t mean I’m not grateful. But I think it does clearly show that I am grieving.
I’m grieving the life I thought I would have.
Grieving all the people, places and things I’ve left with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat.
When I think of an idyllic life, I imagine a home full of those I love, both family and friends.
I think of Sundays with family after church — playing games and laughing for hours.
I think of slow Saturdays, holding lukewarm cups of coffee and chatting with friends while our kids make messes in every room of the house.
I think of walks through the local neighborhood, calling after kids that have gone too far ahead on their bikes.
I think of peace in my heart, my home & my family. I hope for endless days around those I love and enjoy.
Maybe all those things could happen in England or Montana. Actually, I’m sure that things like that happen all over the world. But neither the farm nor the cottage will fully give me what I desire.
This is where I ask you to bear with me while I get a little deep.
I think what I desire is a peace that surpasses my understanding. That truly feels peaceful, despite all the heartache this world throws at me.
I long for knowing that there is a strength big enough to hold me all together when I feel like I’m falling apart.
I want to know that I am safe, surrounded and guarded, even when I can’t see what’s coming around the corner. Even if I’m unprepared, it won’t be my undoing.
I hope for rest and comfort — a place to cry and release all that I’ve been carrying. Can I set aside my stress, anxiety and burdens and not need to pick them up again?
The truth is, I do have a place for all these things and more. In my weariness, it seemed easier to imagine all of *that* in a beautiful, secluded place.
In the still and quiet of my office, I’m filled with gratitude that I have access to all I desire and more in Jesus.
I don’t mean to sound trite or preachy or worse, insincere. It really is quite the opposite.
I have been craving and dreaming about “anywhere else” when what I’ve needed, is to retreat to my heavenly father. He offers it all.
He has been with me through thick and thin. Caught all my tears, answered every prayer, tempered my fears and given wisdom and clarity, always.
He has not magically taken away my difficult feelings. Yet, He has been faithful.
He can handle my rage — even when I swear. He’s forgiven my doubts and reminded me of Truth. He has seen every tear and because I know He suffered so much more than I, I know He really understands.
He understands all of it. I find great comfort in that.
I can live in gratitude, thanking God fully for everything I have; I can also weep at His feet at all I have lost.
I can leave my desires, hopes and dreams with Him — knowing He wants the best for me. His track record is proof.
There’s nothing wrong with a getaway — for now, though, I think what I need, is to return daily to the arms of the Father that can actually give what will heal me.
That’s a lot of clarity. And it only took me writing this blog post for total realization.
Updates to come, I’m sure.
What about you? How do you process? Where are you finding rest and recovery?
Thanks for taking time to read this.
A small, practical note — for those who’ve been asking how to help.
As we prepare to leave for Taiwan in just a few days, some of you have reached out asking how you can walk with us in this season — not just emotionally and spiritually, but practically too.
Right now we’re in the final stretch of our Hope Gives campaign. We’ve seen incredible generosity already, and as of today we’re at $3,100 of $4,050, with just $950 left to fully meet this goal.
If this story resonates with you — the tension, the calling, the longing for peace and faithfulness — and you’d like to be part of helping us take this next step, we would be deeply grateful.
Whether through prayer, sharing, or giving, thank you for standing with our family as we follow where God is leading.
Until we see you in person [or as I like to say, in 3D again, we love you all and we will miss you.
The best is yet to come,
Mandie & Ryan