It’s one of those conversations you never forget. Vince and I were talking about Vegas. This was becoming a normal occurrence. But this time it was different. As he was talking I began to have this surreal experience. I can’t really describe it. All I know is that it hit me sometime in the middle of the conversation. It’s like God spoke to me, not audibly, but inside of me somewhere. I knew at this moment that we were moving to Las Vegas.
And then my world crashed in. I did what any of you would have done. I ran upstairs, hid under my covers and began to cry. This wasn’t a normal, “I’m sad, poor me” kind of cry. This was a wailing, hyperventilating, grieving and mourning the end of our time in Virginia Beach kind of cry. It was serious. I kept picturing different things: moving into our first home, bringing my son home from the hospital, the first Sunday of Forefront, moving into our second home, all the dance parties and memories from our home, all my friends and the experiences I’d had with them, and on and on.
At this point we hadn’t made a final decision. As far as Vince was concerned we weren’t going anywhere. But I knew it! He came upstairs and was like, “What the crap is going on? Why are you crying? We’re not moving! Why are you so upset? We were just talking!” But he didn’t get it; God revealed it to me and I knew at that moment that we were supposed to go.
And I was not happy about it.
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