I was going back through some old posts over the weekend, and found this one that I had written on 1/16/2014 but never published — because, I think, we weren’t quite ready at that time to make our pending move web official. I’m publishing it now because, although that’s all said and done, it’s interesting to see where my thoughts were in those busy days leading up to the listing of our house.
There is so much to do, and yet I feel so distracted… almost paralyzed by my indecision of what to tackle next. Oddly, I don’t feel stressed about my load, but I fear I will get to that point if I don’t get my energies refocused soon. Oh, I’ve been busy and productive, all right, but it seems that after weeks of pushing, pushing, pushing through my to-do list, my brain is threatening to disengage.
Every year about this time, for the past several years, my husband and I seem to be objectively reevaluating our housing situation. We’ve known for a while that our 1300-square-foot (plus a small finished basement), 3-bedroom house isn’t going to comfortably accommodate our family of 6 forever; but my sentimentality and contentedness (coupled with my strong dislike of packing and moving) has continued to keep us here.
I haven’t wanted to move until the point at which it would really feel “worth it”; and I guess that time is now. After spending the late fall and early winter exploring housing options, neighborhoods, and builders, we decided it’s finally time to make a move… literally. But first, we have a house to sell.
And that is what has consumed my energies over the past several weeks: packing my “excess” and preening my house in preparation to list it.
As much work as it’s been (and will continue to be), I’ve actually found it to be an enjoyable process. I mean, really… decluttering ALWAYS feels good, especially in the cabin-fevered dead of winter. And painting over our custom-picked wall colors with a neutral palette has actually served for me as a grateful and gradual detaching from this house. As personal touches were erased from the walls, so was a piece of my sense of ownership.
But even as we allow ourselves to slowly step away from this place, I remain content, comfortable, and thankful. This house has been our home. It’s the place that saw our family grow from three to six. It’s the place where I labored—and then grieved—through miscarriage. It’s the only home my girls have known—and the only one that Abel remembers.
There’s a show on HGTV called Love It or List It. For us, it’s love it AND list it. As we put our final investments into this house, we do so with gladness and deep care. We are so grateful for this little corner of the world that God provided for us almost seven years ago, but we also know it’s time to move on.
So if I seem a little distracted or preoccupied, it’s probably because I have thoughts of packing, cleaning, moving, and designing all whirring simultaneously through my head, pushing me along a timeline that isn’t really even certain. As much as I want to kick back and enjoy my freshly decluttered house before the craziness of having it listed ensues, I know that what I really need to do is scrub. So maybe that’s what I should do now.
Or is it….