It all started on a rainy afternoon drive through the wildlife loop in Custer State Park. We were spending the weekend with family in the Black Hills of South Dakota and enjoying a break from daily life. As we drove through the winding roads, Paul and I continued our ever-present conversation about life: how it’s going, what our goals are, how we feel about things. We argue now about who brought it up first, but one of us began talking about the possibility of living somewhere else. “Where would we go?” “How long would we go?” “What would we do?” The questions kept coming, and by the time we exited the park, we had decided that we would go to Spain for a year.

Why Spain? We decided for our first time living outside of the United States, we wanted someplace slightly familiar, which narrowed us down to Western Europe. We also decided that if we wanted the kids to learn another language, we wanted it to be Spanish. So, Spain it is.

Why a year? I really didn’t want to just take a glorified vacation. I wanted to immerse in the culture to gain a better understanding and appreciation for the people, history and landscape around us. A few weeks were not going to do that. A year would allow us to feel every season, see every holiday, learn through a whole school year, and get over the middle hump of hating everything foreign.

But, really, why? Why did we want to go?

There are plenty of reasons why we are choosing to uproot and take our family to a foreign country for a while. The excitement of adventure in a new land, the challenge of living in a foreign country, the bonding of experiencing change together, the opportunity to learn from others. But, if I’m honest, we were looking for escape.

The few years leading up to last fall had been really hard. We had dealt with relational strains as friends had moved, we had spent three years trying for a baby, we experienced havoc as we were part of leadership at our church, family members were diagnosed with deep illness, and we were feeling overwhelmed with life. I couldn’t handle the pressure. My hair had started falling out, I wasn’t eating much, I avoided friends (even though I’m highly extroverted), and I stopped attending Sunday morning worship. It was dark, and I was so confused and heartbroken over lost relationships and lost dreams that I wanted to step away from everyone and just breathe.

Little did I know, when we concocted our plan to move to Spain, that by following the plan to keep our distance from people, we would end up doing the exact opposite. Not only did we not leave for Europe in July, but because we had already sold our home, we also ended up needing to make plans to live with people. Not just near them, but literally with them. In short order, we had set up a string of nine different homes to live in.

It’s been oh-so-hard to live with others. To have to glare at my weaknesses each day, to give up control, to try to adhere to the rhythms of each new place. But it has also been good to be in close relationship with so many of our wonderful friends and family. To remember how amazing it is to be together. We are healing, and so much of that healing is coming through daily life and conversations with the people.

So, we are not escaping anymore. Well, maybe a little, but not because I can’t breathe. Just to enjoy the fresh air.