Friday, April 28, 2017

My heart's not ready for this

Ready or not...we move tomorrow.  Those words haven't quite sunk in, yet whenever I say them I feel a knife in my heart with a wave of nausea.  It doesn't feel real.  Yet the tears I've shed today and the fact that the truck is arriving tomorrow, tell me it is.

Our house just doesn't work for us anymore.  We have a son who is handicapped beyond what we ever expected, and having a three-story house with no bedrooms on the main floor just doesn't work.  Plain and simple.  So last fall we put the house for sale, thinking we would take advantage of the hot market - and also thinking it would sell very quickly.  Fast forward to March of this year when we had finally taken the house OFF the market to focus on Braxton's surgery and recovery, and BAM - that's when the house sold.

We don't know ultimately where we want to build, or where God wants us.  But we still have to live somewhere, so we bought a small house that we will squeeze into for now.  And we will wait on the Lord.

But here's the thing.  I'm not sad because we aren't sure where we're going to build.  I trust that God will reveal that to us at just the right time.  And it's no big deal that we're going to "downsize" for a while (we're talking about 60% smaller).  I'm actually looking forward to the "challenge" of living closely for a while, and a season of simplifying.

It's the dreams.  Or, I should say, the lost dreams that I'm grieving.

Five and a half years ago we were busting at the seams of our house with five kids, and would dream about a bigger house.  Maybe something with an extra bedroom, or a bonus room.  We had a baby living in our room with nowhere to go, so any extra space would be nice.  Then God blew our socks off.  We got TWO extra bedrooms.  An office.  A bonus room.  A gym.  A formal dining room.  It was more than we ever dreamed.  It was our dream home.

We put blood, sweat and tears into the yard.  We dreamed about growing our own food - which we did.  We planted trees.  Lots and lots of trees, and couldn't wait for them to get big enough for a hammock (they did) and maybe a tire swing and a tree house.  We even drew plans with the boys for their tree house and talked about building it.  I envisioned Braxton running around the yard, and me sitting on a bench while watching him play.  I saw Coral sliding down the slide.  Emma even talked about wanting to get married in our yard.

The inside of the house was finally coming together.  There were some things about it that weren't perfect, but we were making it our own.  The big main-floor remodel we did brought so much natural light in, and gave us beautiful built-ins in the dining room.  The master bathroom remodel turned out so nice that I still love walking into it.  And then.  I gave birth in our house.

This week has been crazy, and I have barely had any time to pack.  But today, as I found myself alone, packing in the quiet, I couldn't stop the tears from flowing. (I finally had to crank some 90's music to pick me up - Beastie Boys, anyone?)  I am a naturally sentimental person - but letting go of this house feels like letting go of so many dreams.  Even though I know it is the right thing to do.

But I can't help but feel sad - and even a little angry - that this had to happen.

I trust God, He knows what's best, but my heart's not ready for this.


"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Jeremiah 29:11



1 comment:

josiecarrell said...

I've missed reading your writing these past years. I have thought and prayed for you. It was by chance I even thought to look here tonight. I truly pray God will ease you through your grief. Hugs and prayers from Northern Alberta.

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