We moved to Georgia this summer. I’m not going to lie, it’s been pretty bad. Swampy, sweaty, constant heat. Unexpected, urgent home repairs. Money flying out the window. Three inch bugs strolling across the floor. Pervasive loneliness. Quiet resentment. Good times. For weeks my kids asked me questions I couldn’t answer about starting their new schools: Who will I eat lunch with? Will anyone be nice to me? What if I get lost? What’s my teacher going to be like? What’s it like to ride the bus? I tried to make a safe place for their constant worries, point them toward hopeful thinking, and pray with them about their worst case scenarios. It was exhausting and scary. By the time the First Day of School came on August 6th I was totally wrung out. I had nothing left. I even threw up from unprecedented anxiety that day. I think that’s called the bottom of the barrel. Now we’re are slowly finding our new normal in the predictability of a school routine. Backpacks and outfits are set out the night before, …