"home"less

After we first signed papers selling our house we told people we were "homeless." Because we had no idea where we were going to move.  Not that we would have been on the street, but we really did not know which house we were going to find for our next dwelling.  Then we picked another house.

Now, despite all the boxes and packing, I still felt this home was to be our home for a long time to come.  I have told people we are moving.  I have the address of the new house memorized.  I envision lying in my bed in a new bedroom.  I think back to a couple weeks ago when our boys were laughing on the steps in the foyer while my husband and I met with the home inspector.  What a great sound of their laughter echoing through a house soon to be ours.  This would work...... 

But where we are is home. 

I thought.

I want it to be.  But.....

Tonight we took apart major pieces of furniture.  Every room but the bathrooms now is occupied by either a box or a very prominent foreshadowing of our exit.  We even received a piece of mail for the new owners today.  There are still family pictures on the wall that give a slight shadow of a presence that was, but it is a small glimmer of what this home truly holds of years of memories.  I am reluctant to take them down, yet. They are the sole remaining items that make me feel like this is still our home.

But reality has set in today. 

In a few days we not be "house"less, but I will feel "home"less.  May it feel like home again there soon....

remembering and hoping

So, we are moving.  In a little over two weeks.  This home holds so many memories.  I just keep thinking of the little (and big things).

This is the only home our boys have every known.  I hope the new home brings as many wonderful memories.

I walk by the window at the top of the stairs and think about how I often admired our backyard.  Even if the yard wasn't great, it was ours.  I felt like a princess looking over the courtyard of her kingdom.  I hope there is a window where I enjoy another view of what makes me content with our home.

I look out the front window and remember all the excitement in the circle.  I hope my boys find new friends to run around the neighborhood. 

I look at the swingset and think how when the neighbors were out this was better than the park.  It has been a rocketship, obstacle course, race cars, pirate ship....  You name it, it has gone on the adventure.  The new backyard is a blank slate.  I wonder what it will become.

I look at the basement.  Nine months of labor.  Dealing with waterproofing.  Putting up walls.  Adding a fireplace.  It is more than another room.  I realize the new owners will have no idea how much pride we feel about that basement.  I wonder if they notice the ceiling is yellow.  I hope they take good care of our home.

I see all our neighbors differently now.  Not just neighbors, but wonderful people who have touched our lives and give us so many memories to take with us.  I can only hope for people just as wonderful at the new home.  I'm grateful we will be so close to stop back and say hello.  Maybe pack up the boys bikes in our car to ride around the cul-de-sac again. 

Now that we are signed up to move I wonder if we truly made the right decision.  Time will tell.  Memories will remain.  The neighborhood will change.  There is such an uncertainty in leaving.  There is an excitement in going.  There is encouragement from others about what is to come.  There is disappointment from those we will be leaving.  I have fond memories of the past ten years here.  I hope for many more years of fond memories in the home to come.

Movement

My life is always moving right now.  Almost literally.

We want to move to a new home.  We need to accomplish both buying and selling. 

I am nearing graduation.  I should be making more of an effort to look for a job once I have my degree.  I have no idea where I am going to go.

My children are nearly constantly moving.  I can barely keep up with watching where they go.

I feel as though I am running.  My thoughts keep racing.

I could use a moment to just stand still and breathe.  For the past year and a half of round two of graduate school life has been a whirlwind.  I wonder if there are too many days that have just passed by with moments that should have been cherished that I simply missed as I was caught up in my busy world.

And while I do simply want to stand and breathe, I want to make sure there is something to take in with the fresh air.  I am ready to embrace the chaos of little boyhood this summer.  I am so grateful to once again have days home with my boys.  I am simply looking forward to have a moment to talk with my neighbors, my husband, my children.  Graduate school was the first time I felt like someone was almost ordering me to focus on something other than my family.  I didn't appreciate that.  I didn't listen, but in certain ways I still needed to comply.  I feel like I am almost to the point of getting my life back.

Despite the constant movement and change I feel like I am finally starting to catch my breath.  I feel like I am moving with the current instead of against it.  My head is above the water and the air is sweet once again.

Here I Go Again....

I really thought I would post on this blog at least once a week....  Nope.  Couldn't keep up.  I am posting now to remind myself to do this (as well as own up to the fact that keeping promises to myself is difficult).  Not in the mood to make excuses today; just admitting to the fact that my follow through is terrible.

A cup of cold water

My husband is much more generous than I.  I need to take more opportunities to learn from him.

After Easter service and chatting with our friends (and a fellow we'll call Bill who goes to our church, who looks a little....  Hmmmm.....  Not so well off), Derek informed me I should go get the kids while he took Bill to the car so we could give him a ride.

"WHAT?!?!"  I thought.  "We are going to take a man we do not know, in our car, WITH OUR CHILDREN, someplace?"

  I took a breath.  It's Easter.  I have seen this man week after week at church.  He is not a new face, but I don't know him.  What will our children think of this man in a purple suit with the matching hat and wild hair? 

I was concerned about safety.  I was concerned about time.  Although, in reality, I was concerned about myself.  I needed to remind myself I see this man nearly every week and am grateful the church welcomes him as he is every week.  No expectations.  No questions asked.  Why can't I? 

I picked up the children from their Sunday School rooms.  I explained we would be giving Bill a ride.  I climbed into the car and squeezed between the boys carseats.  Bill told stories about the history of Ohio.  The boys talked about his "fancy" purple hat.  Erick and Blake both shared some candy they had gotten in their class.  We had plenty of time for our egg hunt and Easter baskets before heading out for a larger family lunch.  Everything was fine.  Why did I worry so?  Derek had seen Bill when he had started college and knew Bill had been homeless at least at one point; perhaps he still is. 

Derek reminded me to give when we can.  My selfishness often gets in the way of this.  It was only a ride.  I need to remember to offer a cup of water to those in need. How many times am I actually drinking that cup of water anyway? 

Easy Open

Easy Open....  REALLY?!!!!

I wanted some goat cheese.  So the plastic packages that peel apart at the corner are supposed to be "easy open?"  There are some requirements:

First, good eyesight.  (I don't have this.  Uphill battle already.)

Second, fingernails.  (Currently, I have short ones to peel apart the two layers.)

Third,  teeth.  (So you can hold one corner of plastic in your teeth while you strategically pull the other corner with one finger and grasp the package with your other hand).

Fourth, t-shirt.  (Because you need to wipe the spit off the package after holding it in your teeth while you again try to pull both sides apart with your hands.)

Fifth, a knife.  (I should have started with this.)

All this for goat cheese.  Ten minutes later I don't think I was even hungry for it.  Next time I think a square of Kraft singles will have to do, folks. 

Suffering with God

I had a moment the other day.  A public moment.  Part of me felt humiliated.  Part of me felt like the rest of the world (or 22 people) needed to hear it.  In all honesty.

We were in our Sunday school class talking about suffering.  Why do Christians suffer?  What do we do about it?  How do we pray about it?

I listened to some answers about how we can pray for wisdom.  We can pray for peace.  We can pray to listen.  And here's what I said:  "When we were struggling with infertility all I could do was ask God 'Why?'  I didn't understand any of what was going on.  I just needed to be angry and come to Him.  And I think He wants me to do that. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change anything or give my boys back.  Feeling like I can be honest enough and trust Him enough to go to Him with tears and anger....."

I broke down if front of friends and felt somewhat like a fool.

I'm not even sure if my infertility was suffering or an answer to prayer about allowing us to adopt.  It still was terrible at the time, because I wanted to be a mom, NOW.  That was my plan.  

There are only so many people in our lives we can trust to yell at them and know that person will still be there.  I'm glad God is one of them.  I know I am not immune to suffering.  Trials will come again.  I will be able to yell and cry and let all my raw emotions bleed in front of Him.  God will be there through it all, and He will hold me in His arms.  May my hope always rest in Him, no matter the suffering I may need to endure.