In late 2008, I was more than thrilled to pack up the few things hurricane Ike had left us and skedaddle up north to Kansas City. I was ready for an adventure with my new husband in the place he had always thought of as home.

Moving from a small Texas coastal town to a medium-sized Midwestern city was a bigger culture shock than I’d expected. I stuck out like a loud, drawling sore thumb, for sure.

But it was fun – braving the snow, learning my way around the city, and enjoying the comforts of living within driving distance of five different Target stores, a BBQ joint on every corner and more Starbucks than you could shake a latte at.

But when we made the decision to come here, we didn’t count on a few things. One, that we’d have a kid. Two, that we’d have two kids. And three, that we’d miss that mosquito-infested, hurricane-threatened, refinery-stenched Texas town and all the crazy people in it so much. So much that it was physically painful at times.

But oh yeah, that all happened.

And despite the wonderful friendships we’d built and the quiet existence we’d carved out in our little Heartland home, we felt that we needed to find a way back to the Lone Star State.

Well friends, after more than a year of trying, God opened a door for us to do so. Today my husband accepted a job offer that will put us right smack dab in the middle of things back home in Texas. Tonight he tendered his resignation with a company that has provided for us since the beginning – a company he’s been with since before we met.

It wasn’t easy for him to do that, and it won’t be easy to say goodbye to those we love here in the city. We’ve got two weeks to get packed and get gone, and we’re a bittersweet mixture of excitement and sadness.

But we’re sure of this, I know. We are SO prayed up on this. We are ready for the next adventure and we know there’s a whole crowd of folks waiting on pins and needles for us to get on home.

Texas, we’ll see y’all soon.