How many times over the last year and a half have I wondered if these decisions we were making were going to land us in a good place? How many times have I second guessed myself and feared making things worse? How many times have I searched deep, very deep, for mercies and joy in the midst of very trying and stressful circumstances?
The memories. They flow like a downhill mountain stream.
Painting house trim. Brenna throwing up in my car. Racing to prepare for a short notice showing. Friends who painted our kitchen. Tears of frustration. Reading One Thousand Gifts. Carrie sitting on packed boxes watching tv. Fretting over de-personalizing the house or making it homey. Realtor decisions. Getting the first mortgage qualification quotes. Agonizing over how the stress was affecting my kids. Putting together the hat box of instruction manuals and information for the new owners. Planting flowers that just died anyway. Wind storms that slammed the front door into the porch lights and broke them. Thinking of places to go during showings. Commuting back and forth to school. Moving in with my parents. Packing more and more toys and feeling more and more guilty. Christmas. Birthdays. Making bunk beds. Fighting hard to be content.
And it just goes on and on.
Yet tonight I write from the quiet, peaceful living room in my new home. The train is rumbling by and Pandora is playing a calming set of piano music. I'm surrounded by boxes and half finished projects. This is where I wanted to be. Here in our home. Not house. Home.
The tears flow more readily while the body is producing extra hormones for pregnancy and I've certainly let out a lot of tears in the last few months. In the last 24 hours, though, they've often become tears of joy. At least 35 people had a hand in helping us move in yesterday. What an amazing show of God's provision! This morning we sang the lyric "joy comes with the morning" and I just had to sit back in awe of that truth. Joy and gratitude.
It seems as though all is resolving at once. We are in the right home for our needs. Not our every want. Our needs. Yes there are some wonderfully special blessings that I know God threw in there just for me. The bright orange tree out back, for one. But some of where I've struggled with the compromises, are already, in less than 24 hours, becoming clear as day to be the right decision. Little neighbor girl knocking on the door and heading upstairs to play with Brenna? absolutely. Man across the street offering Michael any tool he has to use as needed? Yes. Lady two doors down that brought apple cinnamon bread? You bet. I think this neighborhood might be exactly what God had in mind.
Tomorrow is Monday and I'll be counting my blessings for the week. I doubt it's possible to count this week without shedding tears of gratitude, joy and pure awe. We serve a good God. And when he tells us that he has plans for us, plans to prosper and not to harm, hope and a future, He means it. Sometimes we have to go through fire to arrive at what's good, but it is possible to come through unsinged. With nothing but the memories. I am so excited to see what's ahead for us as we get to live, work, and worship in the same community for the first time in our lives. I'm ready to shed the weight of the last year and take on the tasks set before me: setting up a new Peapod, joining the community of women at church, reaching out to my neighbors, and becoming a more active part of my kids' school.
It's a new day!