home...
How is it the end of June? This month has flown by, and it hasn't been easy. We've spent the majority of our time packing and unpacking, trying to figure out where things go, and trying to remember where we put them. We've also been without the internet until yesterday, which was livable, but I'm glad to be connected again.
Last Thursday was a long, tiring day. We've prayed and asked the Lord to help us make it through this moving process gracefully, full of patience, to give us the energy to keep going, and He has been faithful to do exactly that. Aaron and my dad worked like pack mules getting our house into a moving container in the million degree weather, and when the day was finally over and the house was empty, I pulled out my cleaning supplies and began getting our home in pristine condition for its new family. After all, that house has been more than good to me over the last 7 years, and I wanted to make sure I left it in just as good of a condition as the day I moved into it.
Paint dried on the patched up holes as I pushed the vacuum around each room, and I thought back to the hot summer day that I had moved into my first home. I was coming upon my 23 birthday and was so proud to be an official homeowner. My family came over that weekend for a paint party, and we got that entire house painted in a day. That's right people, one day! It's amazing what you can accomplish with a group of hard working people and a few boxes of pizza. Anyway, I settled into bed that night completely exhausted but so content. I was thankful for this precious place that was quickly being transformed into a cozy home, and I began thinking about all of the memories that would be packed into those walls in the years to come.
If those walls could talk, well, they'd certainly have a lot to say. They'd tell you the story of a girl who moved into a home full of hopes and dreams. A girl who had big plans and good ideas that fell apart at the seams. They'd tell you about the nights that she sat alone in the darkness of her bedroom, the one with a mattress on the floor, an old dresser on an empty wall, and a make-shift night stand. and she cried her eyes out wondering how God would ever fix the mess she was in. They'd tell you about how she wandered around that empty home, her dog in tow, praying out loud and asking God to fill the space with his presence so she wouldn't feel so alone. How she knelt on the floor, her tears soaking the carpet, as she muttered the same prayers night after night. Those walls would tell you about the beauty of how she began healing. How laughter returned to her home as it was filled with new friends, new faces, and new memories she never expected.
Those walls would tell of the night she sat in the backyard under the stars hearing the words "I love you," and how she began to learn what love really was and looked like. About the joy that filled her home as she laid in bed that Christmas Eve with an engagement ring hugging her finger. It would laugh as it told you how she and her husband came home from their honeymoon to a room full of wedding gifts and ripped through those packages like children on Christmas morning, It would tell you about how their relationship grew and changed, how it was challenged and strengthened, and how precious the moment was as they sat on the edge of the bathtub a few years later, hand in hand, thanking God for the gift of a positive pregnancy test.
The walls would tell you of the sweet sounds of the new baby girl they brought home. Of the conversations they had about whether to stay or whether to go. Because this home had been a refuge. A place of rest and of comfort no matter what season came. It was a place they both looked forward to coming to at the end of a long day. There, they could be themselves, feel secure, accepted, loved, and safe. It was more than four walls and a place to rest their heads. It was their home, just not their forever home.
I spent my last few minutes there praying. Praying that this new family would be just as blessed by those walls as I had been. That they would feel the same about their home. That it would be filled with a lot of love and many great memories. I prayed that they would feel the love of God in those walls. A love that can't be contained, but a love that is ever present. And I thanked the Lord for the years He gave me there. For the blessing and the privilege of the season on 109th Street. A little house that became a home I'll never forget.
Last Thursday was a long, tiring day. We've prayed and asked the Lord to help us make it through this moving process gracefully, full of patience, to give us the energy to keep going, and He has been faithful to do exactly that. Aaron and my dad worked like pack mules getting our house into a moving container in the million degree weather, and when the day was finally over and the house was empty, I pulled out my cleaning supplies and began getting our home in pristine condition for its new family. After all, that house has been more than good to me over the last 7 years, and I wanted to make sure I left it in just as good of a condition as the day I moved into it.
Paint dried on the patched up holes as I pushed the vacuum around each room, and I thought back to the hot summer day that I had moved into my first home. I was coming upon my 23 birthday and was so proud to be an official homeowner. My family came over that weekend for a paint party, and we got that entire house painted in a day. That's right people, one day! It's amazing what you can accomplish with a group of hard working people and a few boxes of pizza. Anyway, I settled into bed that night completely exhausted but so content. I was thankful for this precious place that was quickly being transformed into a cozy home, and I began thinking about all of the memories that would be packed into those walls in the years to come.
If those walls could talk, well, they'd certainly have a lot to say. They'd tell you the story of a girl who moved into a home full of hopes and dreams. A girl who had big plans and good ideas that fell apart at the seams. They'd tell you about the nights that she sat alone in the darkness of her bedroom, the one with a mattress on the floor, an old dresser on an empty wall, and a make-shift night stand. and she cried her eyes out wondering how God would ever fix the mess she was in. They'd tell you about how she wandered around that empty home, her dog in tow, praying out loud and asking God to fill the space with his presence so she wouldn't feel so alone. How she knelt on the floor, her tears soaking the carpet, as she muttered the same prayers night after night. Those walls would tell you about the beauty of how she began healing. How laughter returned to her home as it was filled with new friends, new faces, and new memories she never expected.
Those walls would tell of the night she sat in the backyard under the stars hearing the words "I love you," and how she began to learn what love really was and looked like. About the joy that filled her home as she laid in bed that Christmas Eve with an engagement ring hugging her finger. It would laugh as it told you how she and her husband came home from their honeymoon to a room full of wedding gifts and ripped through those packages like children on Christmas morning, It would tell you about how their relationship grew and changed, how it was challenged and strengthened, and how precious the moment was as they sat on the edge of the bathtub a few years later, hand in hand, thanking God for the gift of a positive pregnancy test.
The walls would tell you of the sweet sounds of the new baby girl they brought home. Of the conversations they had about whether to stay or whether to go. Because this home had been a refuge. A place of rest and of comfort no matter what season came. It was a place they both looked forward to coming to at the end of a long day. There, they could be themselves, feel secure, accepted, loved, and safe. It was more than four walls and a place to rest their heads. It was their home, just not their forever home.
I spent my last few minutes there praying. Praying that this new family would be just as blessed by those walls as I had been. That they would feel the same about their home. That it would be filled with a lot of love and many great memories. I prayed that they would feel the love of God in those walls. A love that can't be contained, but a love that is ever present. And I thanked the Lord for the years He gave me there. For the blessing and the privilege of the season on 109th Street. A little house that became a home I'll never forget.
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