i don't know how much i'll be writing as we transition into our new home this summer. it's literally only 20 minutes away where we're going but moving a house is still moving a house.
and i'm apparently a hoarder. so that's been fun. who knew how much you could fit in a basement if you just apply yourself. for years. over and over.
whatever. i like finding things in people's trash. it's fun for me, but my husband dies a little when he has to pull over for a treasure. can we just go to a store?
babe, this is a store. a street store. isn't that fun? everything's free on the curb.
listen, when you grow up poor, you think you have to save everything for the time you'll need it. i mean, haven't you watched dr.phil?
if it's broken, that's ok. because you're going to jimmy rig it probably with hot glue, and make it look great. sort of great. and sure, sometimes people threw it away for a reason because it breaks when you sit on it, but this is neither here nor there.
all that to say, i'm getting rid of stuff. meaningful stuff even, but that we've outgrown. and our style has changed over 10 years. we're finally figuring out what we really like and how to put it together as a cohesive room. first world conundrums? absolutely. but this is where we live: excess. so along with purging comes promises not to bring in excessive crap that is just going to sit there for years with no function and no intentionality, into our home.
i will fail, sure. but i do want to change. that's something.
where am i even going with this? i don't know. but it sure beats packing. i have 12 days before i have to be out of this house and so i'm just eulogizing walls and and spaces and countertops and yards where memories were made for 5 years.
it was the start over years.
gifts that came from seasons together that we should have never seen together.
from the snow we should have never played in and the sprinklers we should have never ran through.
but we did. because God gave us a good gift.
and now we move on to the next years of our lives together, facing the unknown. i will be ok with that because when i see what God has already done, i can stare the blurry future in the face and walk forward into it. paint chips in hand.
recognizing that as much as we like to cling to and tightly grip all this stuff we surround ourselves with, including houses and plans none of it is eternal. none of it will mean anything when this life, that is a breath(remember?), all comes to an end. it's good to walk away from homes and paintings and furniture that i loved, if for nothing else than to proclaim to my soul that He is better.