It’s actually happening. We’re moving tomorrow into the rental where we’ll live while our new house is being built.
Our entire home is in boxes. Well, almost. There’s always that last minute stuff that can’t really be packed. But other than that, I think we’re ready.
I remember when Travis and I moved out of our first home – a 600 square foot duplex. I cried. Granted, I was six months pregnant and a little extra emotional at the time, but who am I kidding – I’m probably just that sentimental.
I haven’t decided if this move is going to affect me quite that same way. The majority of my marriage and motherhood memories have been made in this place, and there is this sense that when these doors close behind us for the final time, we will be locked out of an entire chapter of our lives. And in a way, we will.
But I’m not sad. Not yet, anyway. Because custom building a house is exciting. And because selling a house isn’t that much fun. But we’ll see how I feel when we hand over the keys.
One thing is for sure – I’ll feel blessed. I’m humbled by the generosity and thoughtfulness of so many of our friends who’ve voluntarily brought us meals so I could focus on packing – or who are planning to bring us meals so I can focus on unpacking – and of still others who are giving of their time (and their backs) to help us with the move.
I am so undeserving of all the little details which have fallen perfectly into place to bring us to this day. A wise Realtor. A great offer. A quick sell. A rental property that stayed available just long enough (had we turned the application in one hour later, we’d have been too late). Cooperative kids, tremendous friends, loving family. I don’t deserve any of it, and to receive it anyway is Christ.
One friend who dropped a surprise moving gift on my front porch yesterday told me she’s praying that God would be glorified in every detail of our move. Truly, He is.