On Monday, Mel and I met with our new landlord and he told us a story about a friend who has a mouse in his house. He said when he heard the story, he thought of us.

To which I said: Are you saying when you think of rodents, you think of us?

We were, of course, flattered.

He then went on to tell us that they've never had any animals in any of their 80 properties in 27 years, except one mouse in Smyrna.

To this, Melissa and I simultaneously made a joke about the fact that we'd basically welcome one tiny mouse into our house at this point. I think she ended with something along the lines of, "he sounds kind of cute!"

When we moved in to this house, we were terrified when we saw a cockroach. Had you told us we'd have a mouse down the road, we'd have flipped. Nowadays one little baby Fieval doesn't seem like much compared to our brood. 

And while I hate to give any sort of credit to them, I can't help but notice the major perspective change we've had in just three months. It's amazing how everything that happens to us - good, bad or beautiful - is clearly and quickly shaping us.

Lately, I've had these moments where I feel a little bit stuck in life - like I'm not sure what exactly I am supposed to be doing, and this revelation gives me a sense of hope. In the moments where I just don't know what is next, I know that in three months, I could be seeing things entirely differently, feeling a new way or making changes bigger than my address. 

If we just keep doing our best and trusting that things will fall into place, they will. A mouse may have been scary in September, but it's January now, and we're braver and bolder and open to this unexpected change. Do we clear those traps ourselves? No. But we're not breaking any feet over them, either.