Adina Call

Adina CallDec 4 · 6 min read

There are very few times in life you know you made a move and everything just worked out. You know those times where it just fell into place?

Some may call this a stroke of luck.

Or possibly putting in the work and reaping the benefits. The natural results to any goal, system or process.

In my own life there were maybe 3 times I can think of that life worked out so effortlessly.

When I met my husband.

We were friends. Looking to have fun. And for a time I’m not sure why I liked being around him. There were lots of things that were hard for me to want to like. We are very opposite energies and that creates a natural — opposition in neary every decision. Yet, we fell in love and into place very naturally.

I think it surprised us both. And through all the hard times — we still can laugh with and at each other. And found new ways to see each other. Marraige may seem dated, with open-marraiges being more normal, and where you can just date and enjoy the days. That makes a lot of sense. We all have challenges and life gets tough. But it’s been one of those things that when you decide to commit and it works out — the changes on the other side make the rough patches seem like little pebbles. And our relationship has been a big part of our purpose.

When we moved to Florida.

It was so effortless. Even coming to check out the campus in April before he started in July. We flew our son out to Idaho and it was the first time he was away from us. He stayed with his grandparents while we flew to Florida. Looked at this tiny beach town. Saw maybe two apartment complex’s, toured the campus, met a few students. And in June drove cross country with our dog and 13-month old in subaru. It was so seamless. Like we were “meant” to be there.

Like the heavens’ opened and it worked out.

The intensity of his program and raising a family brought on lots of life challenges all at once. And a stretching and growth we never knew we needed. He found his calling. He was happy, the way he was when we first met. He found something sparked his joy again. And he was effervescant, enthusiastic, playful — and running triatholon’s again.

And I was new mother. It made me very very happy. As in Rasing Arizona, “Those were the salad days.” says Nick Cage’s character. Great movie. Hilarious.

Having Our Daughter

The last year of my husbands schooling, I had a tough year. Lots of things. Triggering things I needed to work on. A miscarrage. A misplaced and broken friendship — which seems now like a joke of friendship if I’m really honest. A horrible boss. A contractless contract. It just kept piling on.

When we were pregnant with our oldest girl. It was like a breath of love. We wanted a girl and felt her presence. And she was a girl. And the way her father looked at her every day after work. Held her. Dotted on her. She was love we never knew we needed. Our son gave us purpose. Joy. Testing. And so much to be proud of. And I see my husband truly becoming a man from having a son. Times tested us. He listened more deeply. He thought more carefully about his choices. Yet, our sweet girl — she opened up so much more love. It just was like a long lost love we both were open to.

And then having another girl. She surprised us. And her laugh. Her whole body laughs. She is our equalizer. And balances our family out. Don’t get me wrong parenting is …. mindblowingly the hardest and most challenging thing you’ll ever do. And some days are like SHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIII……wow. There are moments and deeply profound changes that happen when a new life comes to your home.

It’s very very special.

And I hope that younger generations can see the sacrifice it is create life and have children. It’s huge. There’s nothing else like it.

This last move to Oregon.

After 7 years of intense school and hustle. This move has been the move we have been waiting. And I felt the profundity of it, today.

In fact, sitting at the bottom of my stair case. Hugging my oldest daughter, in her bow, tutu sparkles shirt, and wearing a full unicorn jumper. She hasn’t slept during this transition well. Refusing to nap. Refusing to sleep at night. She wanders aimlessless, waking up everyone in the house. Delirious. Tired. Her terrible two’s have been well that. The move effected her rhythm. A new baby sister is stealing her thunder. And she’s toileting.

Reflecting on the past 7 years… I have been in transition. And my children have really paid the price. Of me working a home business. Helping with our practice for emergencies. Stepping in and going back to school online. I’ve needed this for my sanity. And I’ll be honest when I say its been necessary but it has taken a toll on my little ones. I’ve been inbetween meetings. Conference calls, sports practices, church service, then business seminars. Trying to grow into an adult.

And here was my little girl, who hasn’t slept. In her unicorn outfit. With full stuffed head, rainbow main, four legs and tail. Saying, “Nap.” I looked at her and with tears in my eyes said, “I love you.” She teared up, hugged me and cuddled and finally fell asleep.

It hit me so deeply. That all the hustle and tranisition was finally slowing down again.

And it couldn’t have happend had we not made this leap of faith. Trusting in the universe, the heavens and God himself. That our new opportunity and job would be exactly what we needed. And it has.

We can breathe.

And hug our kids on the stairs while they wear a stuffed rainbow unicorn. And work around our kids lives, to be presetn. Say good-bye to the 9 to 5 and really enjoy our hustle. The hustle insn’t gone. It just shifted. And my prayers, countless prayers ya’ll (picked that up from Flordia and southern living). The times on my knees and sacrifice gave me courage to ask.

To see about job across the country. To see my husband breath for a moment. Like he did in school and his life return back in his face.

I couldn’t ask for more than where I am exactly today.

TAKE COURAGE.

You can change your life. If it happened to me, it can happen to you. Just remember it didn’t “just happen” it was years of putting myself in really uncomfortable situations, jobs, conversations — and following the tugs and strings of my heart. Where only stillness speaks.