resilience

Resilience – the ability to weather a storm, rally your crew, keep the ship on course, call up your resources, your know-how, your rainy-day plan.

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Any conversation about resilience – about families being successful in transitions and making it through tough times, brings tears to my eyes and takes me to February 2011 when our little family made a big decision to move across the country from rural Alberta to London, Ontario so that we could live closer to our extended family.'

 

The night we arrived we did what we always did: ventured outside for a walk after dinner. But instead of the kids running ahead on a country road lit up by the moon, we held their hands tightly and coaxed them down the block and around the corner while they asked us question after question.

 

“Who lives there?”

 

“Where’s the beach?”

 

“Where are all these cars going?”

 

“When’s our dog gonna be here?”

 

And so began our new adventure. That’s how we talked about it – to each other, to the kids, to our family. “We’re excited for what’s next.” “It’ll be an adventure.” “We’re a team. We’ve got this.”

 

We rented a small apartment.  My husband started his new job.  The kids and I got to work discovering our new city...discovering cities – neighbourhoods – having anything within walking distance. Our goals: find me a job, find us a house, build a network, meet other families, get on our feet.

 

There were days we made progress. Chris had an amazing day at work – arriving at our apartment full of energy and certain this was a great decision:  for his career and for our family. The kids and I would skip to the Y and the library. Twice in one day! The sidewalks were clear. The sun shone. I’d met another mother with kids the same age in the park.

 

We ticked things off our settling- in list: 

Health cards. 

House hunting. 

Soccer registration. 

Job interview.

The apartment we rented seemed cozy – not too small. The furniture fine – not broken and mismatched.  The fact that we had one suitcase of clothes and a small box of toys and books – part of the transition,  not difficult to manage.

 

And there were those days. When everything came crashing down. The kids refused to walk. My inbox was empty despite hitting send on a dozen job applications. It rained. Our apartment was dark and damp. Chris arrived home from work late. We missed the registration deadline for gymnastics. Our offer on a new house got out-bid. Our son turned five and we didn’t know anyone to invite to a party.  The kids wondered why their old friends didn’t visit any more.

 

On those days, our patience wore thin. We raised our voices. We lost our temper about things that shouldn’t have mattered. We argued.

 

We questioned our decision to move.

 

We were wistful about the life we had left behind: our friends, our kids’ friends, our backyard that bordered on a lake, a job Chris loved.

 

And in that wistfulness – that reflection - we rallied. Again and again. We stood in our tiny little apartment kitchen and figured it out. Holding mismatched coffee cups while our kids watched one too many cartoons, we figured it out. A pep talk. A hug. A new plan.

 

We put our oldest son in JK.

We crossed some things off our house must-have list.

 

We went to a family event at the church down the street.

 

Course correction. Calling on your resources. Enacting your rainy-day plan.

 

So many families go through times way tougher. We had an income. A safe place to live. We spoke the language all around us. And yet we walked the line.

 

And resilience kept our ship on course.