We have just moved.  As in – two days ago.

We left our home of five years, and moved seven miles down the road into the country. 

Although I had been packing for months, it seemed, when it came right down to it, I simply wasn’t ready for the big moment.  In all fairness, the moving date had been stepped up by a week.  In secondary fairness, I must report that it was a heinously busy week for Jeff.  He was unable to take more than one afternoon off.  Men from church came to help us move on a Saturday, from the hours of nine to one.

A friend had our children for the a.m. – I stayed back to help direct traffic and clean up after everything.  The big guys, Jake and Nick, were on a canoe trip with the church youth group.

At one, Jeff had to stop with the process, for he had a wedding to officiate at.  So, he jumped in the shower, cleaned up, threw on a suit and tie, and raced to the church.  In retrospect, I don’t really even know how we made it.  What a painful process!

Saturday evening, we slept on mattresses.  I had done my best to keep items out for church the next day, but even so, I couldn’t find toothpaste.  I brushed my teeth with bubblegum toothpaste, and didn’t even care.    I couldn’t find a slip to save my soul, so stood around for awhile wondering who I could call to borrow one from.  No one close enough was the same size as me – so I determined I would be just fine without one. 

Jake and Nick came home with bags of filthy, river saturated clothing – so the washer and dryer (the one thing we were leaving) ran constantly through those days.

Sunday afternoon, we moved our mattresses and the rest of our items out to the new place.  We had just a few hours, then turned around and went back to church.

 Nick and Emily were baptized in the evening service.  Before they were baptized, they had to give a testimony.  They were nervous, Emily especially, but I was very proud of her.  I felt she spoke from her heart.  Emily had the distinction of being the first person to be baptized in the new baptismal tank at church. 

Sunday evening, after coming to the rental and getting the little children to bed, I went back into town to clean.  I borrowed a radio from our associate pastor and wife, grabbed a cappuchino, and got to work.  I continued to do laundry, and began cleaning in the basement.  I vacuumed edges, sucking up years of legos, paperclips and push pins.  I scrubbed mold that grew in the boy’s bathroom and beneath the freezer.  I did my last load of laundry in that house.

I moved to the upstairs, continuing the process of extricating ourselves from a home.  I forgot how difficult this is.  I began to get quite emotional.  I knew I would never hear “that” specific sound of stepping on a certain board, never peek my head in the door to check on girls in that particular room again.  I continued my stewardship of my home, down to the last evening, caring for it, washing away it’s grime, flooding my soul with memories made there.  Walking past the little boy’s room brought the most tears.  I brought three tiny souls home to live in this house.  Woke countless nights, soothed countless tears, cleaned up innumerable splashes of vomit when Josiah was so ill.  I don’t want to go back…but the memories are there, they are precious to me, even the difficult ones.

I cried so much, I worshipped in submission, as I turned our years over to the Father.  I turned over years past, I turned over our future.  So much is unknown there, too.  I trust Him.  I have no idea where He will lead – and it is with some trepidation, but I know that I trust Him.

I finished up the upstairs, ripping off part of my middle right fingernail in the process.  I was washing the floor, quite vigorously, in the upstairs bathroom.  I was right under the cupboards, when I ran my finger full force into a nail that I had not seen.  Ouch!

I said goodbye to each level, tucking memories to bed as I went.

I finished the main level, bidding it all farewell, walked out the door into the cool night and loaded van, and drove home.  I could not sleep. 

Cappuchino and memories will do that to you. 

Thank you Father, for going before me and behind me.  I can completely rest in you.