Sad and No Steam Left
We close in two days. I have been packing for a week and a half. I should be packing now. I dream of packing. Then I wake up and am taped up inside a box! Ha... kidding... there's no tape!
It is so strange to be excited and sad at the same time. It takes a lot of energy actually. My home has turned into a warehouse with boxes stacked up high along random walls and disorder everywhere. My heart is gently and quietly sad. Everytime I look out my kitchen window at my roses in the BEST bloom ever, I am sad. It's like they are begging me to stay. "Look, we'll bloom like crazy for you... and brighter than ever!", they proclaim as they sway back and forth in the wind. And my maple trees are bigger than ever... so lush and green... full of new precious leaves.
Yesterday was my last Tuesday here, today is my last Wednesday. This house has seen a lot of
life in the five years we have been here. This is the house where we almost lost Abby. This is the house where God so graciously touched and restored her. This is the house where I taught her to walk again. This is the house where Lodie lived and died and is buried in the back yard under a little dogwood tree. This is the house where for just a few days I knew what it was like to be pregnant... where I jumped up and down with friends in the sunroom to celebrate. This is the house where I cried and grieved when it was gone. This is the house where my marriage was hanging by a tattered thread. This is the house where it was so abundantly restored. This is the house where I have lived longest since graduating from high school. This house is on a small cul-de-sac next to two sets of dear friends. This house is my home. This is the house I am boxing up.
Having sad all these sad things, I know we are making a good move. And I know that I will quickly make our new house our home. It will be ok. It will be better than ok.