Prologue
It's hard to believe that ten years ago I flew by myself to Dublin to begin a totally new chapter of my life. How could we have ever imagined what was ahead of us? My utter lack of comprehension of what was to follow was signaled by my lone suitcase, full of t-shirts and shorts--the only clothes I had and all you needed in the warm South--as if that would be adequate in early spring in Dublin.
Yeah, a little naïve, at best.
From the time I touched down in Dublin I had exactly 14 days to establish myself in Ireland. I had to find some way of getting a cell phone, a computer, and then find a place to live. Once I had done that I was expected to report to work and from there I was to acquire a vehicle that would fit a family of seven, register with the Irish immigration, furnish my apartment with all the essentials, and secure a transit pass. And somewhere in between all that I had to get some warmer clothes.
But it all worked out. It always worked out.
Now that I've been home I think about Ireland in one way or another almost every single day. I love to reflect and talk about Ireland but I also hate to think that I'm bragging. I honestly don't consider it bragging, but rather a heartfelt outpouring of deep and genuine gratitude. I consider the Ireland experience a singular blessing from God--one I certainly didn't deserve but one I'll be eternally grateful for having.
"How Did I Get Here?"
On March 21, 2013 I made my first entry into this blog, what was intended to be at least a weekly entry cataloguing my and my family's life in Ireland.
On that day I wrote a short entry, including this line: "The first question could be 'how did I get here?'"
I never did answer that because what was ahead of me certainly was more important that how I got there. But maybe now, ten years later, a little context would be appropriate and perhaps would shed some light on why I consider the Ireland experience a lot more than just a cool trip.
To really start at the beginning would require us to go back to mid summer, 2012. Frankly, the kindest thing I can say about myself then is that I was being a brat. I must admit I was generally unhappy with a lot of things. Every day was a bad day for one reason or another--you name it: someone took my favorite parking spot at work, wahhh! I disliked my job, myself, and the South in general, for no particular reason at all. Outwardly everything was fine really and yet I was still dissatisfied. Aside from my family I didn't want to associate with anyone for any reason.
In retrospect I think I was being incredibly childish. I was magnifying everything negative in my life and minimizing (or ignoring completely) everything that was actually good. If I could go back in time I'd probably give myself a swift kick in the hindquarters. My ingratitude and selfishness were inexcusable.
That's the backdrop to what I thought would be another typical crybaby Tuesday--frustrating, unsatisfying, disappointing. I had just gotten up for work and checked my phone. I had a voicemail that had been left overnight. It was from a man who said his name was Chris. He spoke with a distinct British accent and laughed a bit in his message as he confessed "I just realized this is blazingly early for you!". He invited me to call him back at my convenience.
Later that day while I was at work I took some time to wander off to be myself and did call him back. He turned out to be a recruiter based in London and was actively looking for professionals with a background similar to mine. He had a handful of opportunities available and wanted to know if I was interested in any of them. I remember there were openings in Amsterdam, Birmingham, and Dublin. It sounded great, of course, the idea of heading off overseas to work in Europe, but I was being completely honest when I told him there wasn't a good chance of that happening as I had some pretty deep roots where I was and such a move with a young family of five kids would be next to impossible.
Still, I promised I would talk it over with my wife and from there would let him know if I felt it was really worth pursing or not.
Later that day when I got home Liz was attending to various activities around the house. I wandered into the living room and casually mentioned how I had been contacted by a recruiter who was looking for talent to relocate to Europe.
"Yeah? Where are these openings?" Liz asked. I explained what had been told to me by Chris and that I really didn't have much more details other than I knew they were in Amsterdam, Birmingham, and Dublin.
Liz paused and stared at me for a moment.
"I just got butterflies in my stomach when you said 'Dublin'".
Now I was getting butterflies. Liz has a knack for sensing opportunities and if she was feeling something then that probably meant it was important.
I called Chris back the next day: Tell me more about Dublin.
From then a library of emails began to be exchanged. Numerous phone interviews were held. And with each successive step I always checked in with Liz: Are we sure we want to purse this? If we actually get a job offer I don't think I would say no so we have to be sure this is something we really, really want to do.
She never wavered: keep pursing it like we're going to do it, she'd say.
There were many times it seemed impossible. How could we ever move the entire family over to Ireland for an indefinite period of time? What would we do with all our stuff? Our cars? The house? Sell it? We really liked the house and had put a lot of effort into it.
I remember at one point when we were discussing it I got really frustrated and exclaimed "This is impossible; this is never going to happen! How are we going to get this to work?" Again Liz proved the rational one and said simply, "have faith".
By December the hiring managers had offered to fly Liz and me out to Dublin to meet key personnel and to have an official interview. They also arranged for us to take a tour of the city and other activities.
That first trip to Ireland merits its own blog entry but, but to be short, it was that trip that really sealed the deal. By the time we got home, if we weren't sure before we were now: we were going to Ireland.. We didn't have all the answers to "how" we only knew that it would all work out.
From December to March I and the family were in full-on "Operation Ireland" mode. A lot of work had to be done and a lot of important decisions had to be made. And a lot of sacrifice as well, and not really on my part but on my family's. Liz by herself spent an enormous amount of time and energy getting the house ready to rent out while we were away.
Many of the sacrifices were also borne by my young children. I'll never forget the day we had a "super yard sale" to dispose of everything we couldn't put in storage or take with us, which to be clear, was almost everything. I looked out that day and was stung to my heart: my kids had put virtually everything they owned on that patio to be sold. Clothes, bikes, beds, toys, keepsakes. Their contribution to pay the cost of my decision to move the family was made evident that day, and it wouldn't be the last time.
As would be proven time and time again everything that had to be done was done; perhaps not always to our preference but it did get done.
Then it came time to buy that one-way ticket to Dublin. I remember telling the recruiter Chris that I was feeling a little bit like Felix Baumgartner before taking that step. But I did take that step and much of what happened next I captured either in this blog, photos, emails, or perhaps just my memories.
I reflect upon those first few weeks when there was so much to be done and I had virtually nothing. Many kind people came to my aid when I needed it. I am so grateful for their help. They all became my first friends of many I and my family would make. By the time my family arrived about a month later every major piece had been setup and was ready.
What I could not have conceived then was that in only about two years I would be repeating virtually everything I was doing then, just in reverse. I would be selling the van I was buying. I would be disposing of all the household goods and furniture. I would be disconnecting all those communication devices. I would be cancelling all my Irish accounts. And the hardest part: Saying goodbye to all my dear friends I had made in Ireland and the beautiful country I had grown to adore.
But I knew going into it that it wasn't meant to last forever.
Epilogue
When I returned to the United States in April of 2015 I was a different person--I was a better person. My whole family was different. Though we returned the same house and the same beautiful South I felt differently about it all. I didn't dislike it anymore. Things seemed . . . better, ok even.
I guess that's why I am so deeply and humbly grateful for my two years in Ireland. I've said it before but while I was there I had no bad days, and I mean it. Sure there were trials and disappointments but we dealt with them. The Ireland experience had changed me for the better. I had grown and a lot of my pettiness, selfishness, and ingratitude were gone. It's difficult to express adequately how or why it did, but it did, and it set the stage for a lot more growth to come because life doesn't stop coming at you, no matter where you live.
So, yeah, Ireland holds a very special place on the mantelpiece of my heart. It always will. My emotions are near the surface whenever I reflect upon my time there. It was . . . a gift, to one as categorically undeserving as I was, it came at a time when I needed a rescue of sorts.
So at the risk of being too emotional, I must again raise a glass and toast Ireland again, as I do every St. Patrick's Day. Sláinte .
Someday I hope to return but even if I never do, that will be OK. Ireland lives in my heart every day.
