Three States in One Year

Posted by Jordan

Okay, so I guess we have a little explaining to do.  I've had several friends tell me via this blog and through other means that I was insufficiently clear that Jaicee and I have moved back to Utah.  Which, as of three weeks ago is no longer true anyway.  We now live in Idaho.

True, we just barely moved to Denver.  Also true, we did kind of sneak our way back over, so I can understand the confusion.  I'll do my best to spare you the sordid details (which are many, and which are not nearly as entertaining to read as to hear told) and give you the "nutshell" version, which is still moderate in length.

IN THE BEGINNING...Jaicee and I never EVER wanted to leave Cache Valley.  But the Lord, it seems, had different plans for us.  For almost a year he thwarted my every attempt to find employment in Cache Valley, apparently  because I had a need to go to Denver.

I cried when Jaicee and I drove away from our house in Logan and headed off for Colorado.  I cried all the way out of the valley. I did not want to leave.

To say that we were homesick in Denver would be an understatement.  But we tried hard.  We looked at it sort of like being on a mission, and we put effort and prayer into sharing the Gospel with those we came in contact with, and we tried to serve our neighbors.  We knew that there had to be a purpose for our being there, and we tried to focus on whatever it is that might be.

But we were really, deeply, unhappy with our circumstances there.  For one thing, Sherwin-Williams was an ugly and severe trial for me, the likes of which I have not yet experienced in my life.  As is usually the case with trials overcome, I forged new friendships and did gain some important personal growth and development from the ordeal... but I also developed a twich in my eye from the stress and anxiety (I'm not even kidding).

The other thing was that Jaicee and I both hated the big city.  It is a giant asphalt anthill that seemed to swarm thicker and thicker with cars and buildings and people, until at times it felt that an endless wave of pavement had rolled out and encased the entire earth, and we found ourselves having to concentrate hard to fight the claustrophobia.

And it's not like we've never experienced a big city before.  St. Petersburg, Russia is over five million people.  I've lived there for extended periods on more than one occasion, once with Jaicee.  But it was under completely different purpose and circumstance--not trying to raise kids and eke out a living.

Nothing against Denver itself, as opposed to any other city; it was actually quite nice where we lived, as far as big cities go.  In fact, our particular stake and ward in Parker was quite well-to-do.  (We just happened to live in that one apartment complex that some property management mogul built amongst the carefully manicured, covenant controlled estate communities.)  My District Manager at Sherwin-Williams told me how jealous he was that I got to live in Denver:  "It has everything," he counted off on his fingers, "Pro football, pro baseball, pro basketball, pro hockey... every professional sport!!"  Well, I guess if you're into that sort of thing, Denver could be a great place to live.  But if you know Jaicee and me, this is just laughable.

We particularly hated living on the third floor in the middle of what felt like a giant parking lot.  But as we looked around at our more financially liberated neighbors in their comparative mansions, we weren't envious of what they had either.  We didn't have the least desire to live in even the nicest house in any of the suburbs of Denver or any other city even remotely as big.  It was comical to Jaicee and me every time we heard a neighbor tell us that the nice thing about Parker is the "small town feel."  Clearly, they had never been to a small town in their life.  We'd just smile at each other and nod in feigned concurrence.

Jaicee and I are small town kids both in origin and desire.  It has been our daydream since we were in Russia together to raise our kids on some acreage outside of a small town, surrounded by fields of hay and grain and pasture, where we can stretch out and breathe deep, raise pigs and chickens and have some fruit trees (and a huge, sincere pumpkin patch).  There's something in both of us that we cannot deny, pulling us both ineluctably to a more agrarian lifestyle. And the pull was never felt stronger than when we were drowning in the six-lane river of traffic that separated our apartment complex from the massive shopping center and strip malls on the other side.

As I mentioned before, there were "higher" reasons for our being in Denver at that time.  Though in the moment we didn't know exactly what all of those reasons were, we knew that we were where we should be--where God wanted us to be--even though we didn't like it one bit.  So we stayed, vowing that as soon as the Lord gave us leave, were were out of there.

Now, before I go even one sentence further, I have to interject my heartfelt appreciation to the members of our ward in Parker.  Though my feelings about our suburban subsistence are less than positive, I loved my ward family there, and I miss them dearly.  I am so impressed with the caliber of people in our Ponderosa Ward--from the accomplished and successful adults, to the stalwart and capable youth, to the unbelievably bright and endearing children--and I am blessed to be able to call them my friends.

From the moment we arrived in Parker, hands and dinner invitations were extended and homes were opened to us in welcome. And it didn't stop there.  During the holiday season we were the recipients of some acts of service that were so special to me as to be considered sacred. And there were countless other acts of giving and kindness that I cannot even begin to mention them here.  Further, I once again had the privilege of serving in close association with the Bishopric and ward leadership, and I hold few people in higher esteem than them.  My greatest dream would be to transplant that ward with all of its members to a different place, out of the city... but that would be heaven, and I'm just going to have to wait for that.


In March, our situation changed (I won't detail), and I finally felt that Jaicee and I had completed our reasons for being in Denver.  It hadn't even been a year.  Which is a good thing, because I think one more month with Sherwin-Williams would have killed me, or at least scarred me for life.

But now leaving Denver was a bit more complicated: Jaicee was eight months pregnant!!!

(Yeah... that was kind of another "oops."  We found out about a month after getting to Denver.  So, now we have three kids age three and under.  Ugh.)

We were so desperate to get out of the city and to move back home, but trying to coordinate a major change in jobs, moving to another state, and the birth of our third baby was like politely asking the planets to align, just this once, for us.

BUT ALIGN THEY DID!!  I had one very brief window of opportunity to escape back home, and I took it...

I have rarely done anything as satisfying as quitting my job at Sherwin-Williams.  It felt like a thick black cloud finally parted after months of smothering darkness, and beautiful shimmering golden rays of sunshine began to break through and light my soul.  We immediately commenced packing.

Everything came down from the walls that we had hung there mere months before.  Shelves were emptied and packed into boxes that we had just barely unpacked.  During Easter, we had to hide the girls' eggs among piles of boxes and disassembled furniture.  And yet it was far more joyous than daunting, because we knew that we were going home.

Daphne was born during my last week of work.

My mother came over from Moab to help Jaicee while I tried to finish packing the apartment.  Exactly seven days later, I opened up the Sherwin-Williams store in Centennial, Colorado for the last time.  I clocked out a few hours later, leaving my keys (and my cares) on my desk.  I came home, did all the last-minute packing I could, jammed our suitcases into the car, buckled my three children (including my brand-new one-week-old baby) into three car seats, and we left Colorado that very night.

We left all of our things behind in the apartment with the plan to return for them once we had found a place to live.  I drove half the night to Moab, where we stopped to sleep, then continued on up to Richmond, Utah.  I started my new job the next morning.  WHEW!!!


My brother McLain is largely (if not solely) responsible for this alignment of the planets (which makes him more powerful than even Zeus, I think), and it is to him that I am in a great deal of debt for getting us back home.  McLain is a manager at Casper's Ice Cream, best known for making Fat Boy ice cream sandwiches. It's a little privately owned company way out between Richmond and Lewiston, UT, nestled down in the middle of some of the most beautiful farm land I have ever seen.  McLain pulled strings at Casper's and got me on as a mix man, making the ice cream "mix" that later gets frozen and sent down the process line.  I took it gladly, for literally half the pay of my previous job.

In addition to the job, McLain was also kind enough to let us move into his basement, crying newborn and all, until I found a place of our own. (I should actually say that SHERI was kind enough, since really, she was the one who had to make the far greater sacrifice to have us stay with them.)

Because the baby, the move, and a 50% reduction in income all happened simultaneously, I had more difficulty finding a place to live than I had initially anticipated.  What was supposed to be less than a month in McLain's basement turned into six months.  SIX MONTHS!!  The first six months of my newest baby's life.  Half the year living out of our suitcases, sleeping with the mattress on the floor, with all the rest of our personal belongings gathered up from Denver and stuffed into a storage unit in North Logan.  I am grateful for my family, for they are troopers, every one of them.  I am also grateful to Sheri, for sharing her home with us for those six months

The summer in McLain's basement working for Casper's Ice cream had some definite ups and some pretty major downs at times.  But through it all was an overriding sense of peace and relief.  Even though I was still in limbo, living with my brother's family and constantly wondering how on earth we were going to get back on our own feet, I never doubted that I made the right decision.  I was so happy to be back in Utah, close to family... and even better, to be in a town so small that you can push a stroller down the middle of Main Street, which has neither traffic lights nor lane markings.  I can't even imagine staying in Colorado where we were.

At the end of the summer, the windows of heaven really started to pour out blessings upon us.  I got promoted to a new position at the plant (also due in no small part to my brother) with a raise that took a significant step toward recovering some of that lost income.

My position is something like "Warehouse Manager."  I am primarily responsible (as my business card indicates) for shipping and receiving, and overseeing the warehouse inventory, cleanliness, and organization.  It's a good fit for me.  My hours are awesome, and the job is very relaxed and stress free.  A major part of my job is making sure that things are orderly, organized, and accounted for, which pacifies my OCD tendencies.

The one downside is that since our product is frozen, I spend several hours each day in the huge warehouse freezer which is kept at a comfortable twenty below zero.  My typical attire at work consists of snow boots, insulated bib overalls, a knee-length parka, and insulated gloves.  Even then, I sometimes come out of the freezer so blasted cold that my fingers, face, and toes are numb.

But despite the cold, I love my job.  It stands in such sharp contrast to the huge corporate monster that I left behind.  I love the people I work with now (one of whom is my broski), and I love the company I work for.  Paul Merrill, the owner of the company, treats his employees very well, and there are lots of really awesome perks and fringe benefits.  Not the least of which is that I am never in short supply of ice cream.  You know, nobody really gets excited when you tell them that you work for a paint company.  Some even get mad at you because they hate your paint.  But you tell them that you make ice cream for a living, and people love you instantly.  It's awesome.

So, immediately after getting this promotion, we found a nice little house to rent, not far from my work that is both CLEAN and AFFORDABLE (a combination that is unbelievably hard to come by).

THIS is the view out the kitchen window!!! Beautiful.

It's still in Cache Valley, but actually just a stone's throw from the Utah-Idaho border, in little Franklin, ID.

Population...

...'bout 600.

NOW THAT'S MORE LIKE IT!!!!

Now, I am happier than I have ever been in my life.

After moving into this little house, I took a blanket out and spread it under the towering tree in the enormous yard behind our house.  The leaves were rich, buttery yellow, and the sky was deep blue.  Golden afternoon sunshine cast long shadows across fields and pastures from intermittent barns and houses scattered up into the foothills.  The mountains were red with the flaming foliage of the canyon maples. All I could hear was the sound of my girls chasing each other around in the yard like a couple of exuberant puppies.  And that's all.

I shared the blanket with my wife and little Daphne, and I read a book until the sun went down.  At the end of every page, I stopped to take another deep and refreshing drink of my beautiful surroundings.  Life is good.  So good.  I feel like all my dreams are coming true.

Of course, the journey isn't over yet.  Jaicee and I just went in to get pre-qualified for a mortgage.  After I pay off a chunk of my student loans in the spring, Jaicee and I hope to buy a home so we can quit paying someone else's mortgage.  But for now, we have a quaint little place to stay while we work out all of those details.

And I couldn't be happier.