When we sit still we kind of feel guilty at this point. Although most of the boxes have been unpacked and most pictures hung, when we sit down to rest, I declare those remaining boxes and pictures clear their throats as a sign of laziness on our parts. It’s rather accusing and some of the newer items seem to raise their hands in a frenzied panic as if to say, “Pick me! Pick me!”, in a bizarre game of Red Rover for decor to come on over to this table for gracing us with its chosen presence.
My goal today is to do a little living in this house in order for it to begin feeling like home. Although we and our children had a delicious meal from friends around our dining room table Friday amidst boxes, I’m ready to prepare a meal. So, today’s going to end with vegetable soup prepared on my stove or else…I’ll go buy something. NOT!
Today, I’m going to the nearby Publix and buy laundry detergent. I need to live here. I need to do laundry. Call me crazy, but doing laundry is therapeutic.
Yesterday, we went one last time to our Pinewood house to gather our clothes. That’s a sure sign that a commitment to live elsewhere is confirmed. We found a few stray boxes that came along for the last ride.
For a minute, I stood alone in the kitchen over there and time stood still as I recalled twelve years earlier standing in the same spot right before moving in. I got that lump in my throat and felt the tears stinging the corners of my eyelids as I recalled a whole lot of living in that one spot.
I heard the voices and saw the people in the various scenes of those memories and I almost said I’d rather stay there and live a little more. My husband walked in. I cried a tad, holding back sobs.
We gathered all the keys and put them on an old key ring. My phone rang and I missed the call so dialed it right back. It was the new owner, a new friend to me now. She was hoping her family of husband, children, and grandsons could come by for a swim in the pool, one last time before they open it back up in the spring.
I told her we were leaving and of course they could. After all, It’s not our house anymore. Yet, there’s a lot of life left to live there. It just won’t be us. It needs those little boys to enjoy the cold water and grandparents being there, conveniently located to daughter’s family.
Life wherever we are needs to be lived.
Our presence needs to be present in the present because each moment is a present.
What’s my soul feeling today? A tad lost in this in-between time of unpacking and establishing living patterns here. I’m looking forward to feeling like the lady of the house who belongs here.
How does my spirit respond? Dear Lord, it’s been an emotional roller coaster of a ride these weeks leading up to the move. We’re here. You’re here. It’s all good. Home is where You and my family are. Help me to make the switch to life on the hill without looking back in sadness over sweet memories in a place, but looking forward with joy to new things to live in a new place. There’s much to learn about this new house and much to appreciate about its age and its location. I’m looking to You today especially knowing that there are no more trips back to pick up a crumb at the other house. I celebrate that today because each trip back was becoming more of a challenge emotionally. So the time has come to start life as the folks on the hill and I celebrate that today, too! Thank You for this gift. Thank You for the living that will be done here. Thank You for neighbors sending food for supper and bringing by pumpkin bread to enjoy Saturday morning. And thank You for vegetable soup and laundry detergent.