The Editorial Update I've Been Dying to Post For a Whole Year
This is so exciting!
Hello to all of our wonderful contributing writers, readers, subscribers, and listeners! I'm coming to you today with an update on your editorial team: my fiancé, David Swindle and me.
I've posted such updates before: to share with you that Dave had been hospitalized once, then twice for his PTSD, that we were traveling back to our home state of Indiana for the winter to allow him (and me!) to better recuperate, and to inform you of the unexpected seizures he suffered. These have been difficult, tricky updates to write, but I realized that you'd want to know.
Today, though, I have an absolutely awesome update for you: Dave and I are finally moving!
It's no exaggeration to say this is a total game-changer. I've mostly tried to joke about it, but the truth is, folks, this hasn't been a good situation.
Since February of 2022, we've been renting an RV on 25 acres of isolated desert. We did this because Dave needed quiet, peace, isolation, and inspiration as he learned how to heal from the debilitating PTSD he was experiencing. After all, the God of Israel is a God of the desert! If you want to speak to Him, then you'll have to go to the desert, right? (And yes, that line from The Last Temptation of Christ gave this publication its name.)
Choosing to take this advice literally, Dave was, indeed, able to talk to God here. He did experience the silence and solitude he needed. But in other ways, it’s been a rough way to live.
For example, we have only had functional plumbing off and on. We didn't have access to cold water until last July - and then, this year, upon arriving “home” from Indiana in mid-February, with its nighttime and morning lows in the 30°s, we didn't have hot water until mid-March.
We have never had heat. Worse, we did not have air conditioning until late last August, as temperatures flirted with 110° and even neared 120°. The air conditioning still doesn't work very well. I still sweat while I'm lying directly under the unit.
As I write this, it's already so hot - in mid-May! - that our trusty stand-alone Frigidaire ice-maker has apparently gone on strike. It will only make ice in the early hours of the morning, when it's coolest.
I don't know about you, but I am simply not built for this kind of heat.
Then there's the space issue! I'll be the first to say that a 30-foot RV is plenty big enough for a road trip. But when the thing is parked and it's your actual home, fitting all your belongings inside is a non-starter. Our stuff is variously stashed inside, outside, in our cars, in a nearby storage shed, and at our parents' homes in Indiana. Of course there are possessions we both want and need, but we're literally tripping over each other as it is.
And then, well, the wildlife doesn't exactly stay outside the way we previously understood it to! Without AC, doors and windows must be left open for air flow, but even with AC “on” and doors and windows shut, there are access points. I've never accidentally swallowed so many moths in my life! (0/10, do not recommend.) Then there are the danger noodles - I'll never forget Dave heroically using his hiking stick to keep out a nearby rattlesnake one night. And kangaroo rats! These suckers are adorable, but they belong outside. The less said about the lizard I once found inside my shoe, the better.
So, yeah - it's been a lot.
We never expected to stay here for so long. There are a number of reasons why we did, but chief among them was Dave's illness. He needed the quiet - in fact, his need for isolation led to full-blown agoraphobia. And, well, the price was right: with PTSD symptoms hindering his ability to focus, regular, paid work was rendered difficult. It was sometimes impossible.
But now, all that has changed - just as I knew it would.
Dave will never tell you this himself: for all of his bombastic political writing, he's a very modest guy. But the truth is that, by taking charge of and sticking with his treatment, even when it seemed hopeless, he pulled himself up and out of a very deep pit. He walked on level ground for only a short time before beginning, once again, to climb mountains.
Dave tells me I helped. And I know his parents did! So did mine. Our sweet puppy girl, Jasmine, helped, as did our many wonderful colleagues and friends! But when your illness leaves you wanting to die most days, no one can fix it for you. You have to do it yourself. And it sure looks like he did.
Within weeks of David's new treatment plan, big changes were underway. Within months, his life was unrecognizable. He was working again - working harder and smarter. And it was noticed.
David's particular combination of resilience, diligence, and brilliance has directly resulted in our ability to move to a beautiful, regular-sized, properly air-conditioned apartment in the nearby city of Yucca Valley, about half an hour away.
Hooray! Thank you, Lord.
Yep, David can live in a city again, with neighbors! He's no longer crippled by agoraphobia. He'll have his own office to work from, instead of hunkering down on the couch in front of a precariously-positioned box fan. He'll have his beloved library and DVD collection all under one roof again.
And me? I'll be oh, so, gloriously cool! And I'll have space!
I'll finally have my clothes all together again. And my shoe collection. And my own books! And my cardinal figurines! (Hey, everybody's got something, right?)
We'll have good air conditioning! We'll have a bathtub! We'll have an attached garage! As Official Household Errand-Runner, I'm over the moon about that one. We'll have a kitchen we can actually cook in! And counter space! We'll have good air conditioning! And a fridge that makes its own ice, although we do hope to somehow make it up to our poor little Frigidaire, who persevered for so long through truly impossible conditions.
In short, we'll have more space. We'll be safer, both from the desert heat and from the toppling columns of stacked books around the RV. And we'll each have our own space.
Did I mention we'll have good air conditioning?
And we’ll be in an absolutely gorgeous town, where it's consistently at least 10° cooler than where we are now. Yucca Valley also has much more varied plant life than Twentynine Palms, and we will be incredibly happy to be nestled between the Joshua trees once again.
That means we'll both be able to spend more time reading, writing, editing, and publishing! Hooray!
We pick up our keys this Saturday. Rather than doing one big Moving Day, which seems daunting and would derail some of Dave’s time-sensitive work, we will be moving in bit by bit during the 30 days' notice we gave at the RV. But that's enough: it's a very bright light at the end of this suddenly shortened tunnel.
I'm so excited! Please know that, while we'll be busy moving for the next few weeks, this event marks the real turning point both in our lives and in the life of God of the Desert Books.
It's all going to be so good. And we can't wait to share it with you.
Well done!
So happy for both of you!