The process

When the prospect of leaving everything we knew and have grown to love in California came up, our first inclination was "No. We can't."

It seemed as if our roots were finally breaking through the stones. As if our awkward fumbling was finally turning into a rhythmic dance. The idea of tying up this chapter of our lives seemed premature, irresponsible on many levels... even borderline sinful. 

Daniel was excelling at his research/manager position. He had just stepped into a promotion and was the darling of his company. They paid well, appreciated him and were slathering him up for a future in the business. He had great friends, co-workers and was learning what it meant to be a humble, yet stern leader. 

I, on the other hand, was just starting to feel competent at the news station I was at. I was getting paid in empty promises and bread crumbs, but it was fun and challenging. I was doing well, making waves and developing really, really great friendships. 

At church, as commuters we finally had a community in San Diego to meet for Ekklesia, relationships at all corners were deepening and we were still learning how to intercede for our tribe and world. I had just stepped into children's worship -- and even though I was below par on many levels, a leader and friend was willing to teach me everything from how to set up for Sunday worship to how to simply praise God. An advance (similar to a bible study) was coming up and I was going to be able to dive into it without the distraction of wedding planning or job searching. I was finally going to be able to saturate myself in the Word, with guidance and wisdom from one of my dearest mentors.

With all these aspects that were starting to come into fruition, it was heart wrenching to place them on hold. These weren't just ideas or comforts or security, these were opportunities for us to build life with individuals. We were being honed and sharpened, growing in love and reverence. And in one, sweeping moment, our lives dangled from a string as we had two choices ticking in front of us. To move across country in two weeks and start this 8-10 year journey away from everyone we love or continue growing for another year, make some more dents in our student loans and hope Daniel gets in the following round (he had just dropped hundreds of dollars in med school applications for the following year).

With only a few days to decide, I would lie awake mapping out the pros and the cons, what was practical and what was naive. What would my role become?

The decision boiled down to: would we allow faith to set the tone, or fear? 

A few months prior to the option of us even leaving California was in the picture, a dear brother we were treating out to dinner randomly gave us a little plaque that read "Let your faith be bigger than your fear." Without any cause, his response simply was, "I saw this, and I thought of you guys."

Fast forward several months. 

In Erie, PA, was no one we knew within 8-hours of driving distance, no money, no church prospects, no place to live, no job, merciless winters and worst of all - no Korean food.

But as each day passed, we put our lists and charts and cons aside, and recalled God's faithfulness. We remembered how He first saved us and redeemed us. How He brought us together. How He led us as we grew in discipleship. How He led us to the altar -- how He provided the means to even have a wedding. How He continued to provide even after the wedding (when neither of us had a stable job yet). How He gifted us with community and a church and a cloud of brothers and sisters who showed us what it meant to live as Christ lived and love as He loves.

The fear -- though never fully dissipating --  began to dwindle and the desire to go became palpable. After much prayer and deliberation from our closest friends, pastors and parents, our faith began to take root again and our choice to jump was clear. 

Not to say that if we stayed, it would have been considered the wrong decision: We could have left due to the fear of Daniel never getting a chance to go to medical school again or stayed in fear of the unknown, and similarly we could have stayed in faith, knowing God would open the doors that needed to be opened or left in faith knowing we were operating in God's will.

We decided about two weeks before Daniel would begin classes. We submitted our letters of resignations at our respective jobs, began processing our goodbyes, got moving boxes and prepared for the long drive. I spent those last two weeks with salt deposits on my cheeks and swollen eyes, but also with a heart brimming with gratitude.

What was waiting in Erie, became more of anticipation and expectation: How will we present our lives to God there? Who will impact us? How will we grow? How will our marriage change?