The next few days were the kind that you just get through if you’re the mother. I’d like to say that I came up with an ingenious plan for keeping the children busy while Greg was in synod meetings, but as it happened, someone already thought of one for me. As a homeschooling, sheltering, locking-my-kids-in-the-basement* mother, I did what any religious zealot would do in the situation: I dropped them off at the activity sessions.

I didn’t know that there would be a rock climbing wall, a zip line, and Dodge Ball. Thankfully though, other ARP mothers trapped in hotel rooms in years past thought of how to keep the kids busy. So, my two oldest spent several hours a day running off some energy.

That left me with three children. (Yes, this is a break.) During naps, I made phone calls and appointments for properties in the area. I followed leads, ruled out possibilities, and calculated prices per acre. I already knew that land is more expensive in the area, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t deals to be found. Even if we didn’t end up there, this research is all part of my education. When we come across “the” piece, I can look at Greg and say with some credibility, “Hey, I’ve looked at thousands of properties over the last three years, and this is the one.” He trusts me.

Between sessions, I dragged the whole family on a “this might be the one” tour. When there aren’t any animals on the property to pet, the children usually get cranky. It seemed that the folks in North Carolina kept skiddish horses, and no Little Red Hens and Billy Goats. The kids were bored. I’m trusting that one day, though, they will all thank me. I’m sure of it.

We toured some of Polk County, as it was listed as one of the Top 10 Best Places to Live in Progressive Farmer magazine. There was a hobby farm in our budget there, but as is usual, the pictures left out a lot of blemishes. It wasn’t for us. As it happened, I actually more enjoyed the mountain town of Flat Rock, NC with it’s charming old homes with window boxes.

In the evenings, Greg and I sat on the back porch breathing in the cool mountain air while the children slept. There were lightning bugs. We mistook the sound of a penny whistle player across the lake for a bird. We talked about the future just as if we were a newlywed couple again. The moments are there if you are slow enough to notice them.

We made it through the week without too much trouble. We had planned to go home on Friday, but Greg talked me into “swinging by” Tennessee on our way home. An optimist uses a thousand miles out-of-the-way with five little kids to “swing by.” As for me, I considered it a “treacherous journey” wrought with McDonald’s, public restrooms, and a car weary baby.

Thankfully, my doomsday attitude is sometimes rewarded with surprises. Things were about to turn well. In the end, I’d have to thank Greg for talking me into the Tennessee trip. He always loves to be adored and applauded and is grateful for the privilege of being right every now and then.

*Florida homes do not have basements.