Moving is so difficult! I feel a new sense of empathy for families constantly on the move, especially those forced to move because of work or finances. It's like what is familiar to you is suddenly gone, what you know is just a memory. Leaving our house, the house that we brought home our baby boy to, the house that we spent countless hours gutting and regutting, revamping, primping, remodeling, beautifying, and all the other words that describe all the blood, sweat, and tears poured into each room, brought me to tears! Nick told me to "turn off my emotional switch" as we slowly emptied our house of our furniture and belongings, and thus our memories. How do you just flip the switch? Ugh, men.
My life in boxes. It's overwhelming the number of boxes coming out of our house and resting dusty and lonely in storage. I know that possessions are far less important than people (obviously), but there is something to be said about being established through having your own style displayed for all to see! Yet my style is in boxes. Dusty and lonely.
We are waiting for God to show us our home, not just a house. The HOME that we will bring more babies to. The one that we will create new memories in. The one that he has planned as our shelter and tangible refuge. The one that will hold our style, our good times and bad.
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