Dust rises softly as I pull books from the shelf. It floats up with the heat from a sunbeam,and I watch it for a second, waiting.
Each book holds a memory for me, and I look at the covers and run my hands along the spines, prolonging the decision that must come. Does it stay, or does it go? I wish I could keep them all.
There’s a box on my bed for the ones that are staying, and a box on the floor for the ones that are going. The box on the bed is winning.
There are piles in the hall, too, where I’ve been rooting through closets and bedrooms, and stacks of our things down by the garage door, waiting to go to Goodwill.
Jonathan has taken it upon himself to sort through his treasure collection. The trash can is full to overflowing with rocks, rusty nails, and broken bits of toys. I notice, with a twinge of sadness and relief, that Jonathan has finally decided to throw away the shredded aluminum cans he’s been saving since last summer when he got to shoot a .22 with his dad in the field. The bullet had gone in clean. But it didn’t come out that way.
That’s a little how I’m feeling these days. The bullet went in clean. But it didn’t come out that way.
This house was our first house. The housing market had just taken a huge hit, and the house was in foreclosure. It was owned by a couple with two kids, and things had not turned out the way they had hoped. I noticed the pencil markings on the kitchen wall and saw how their two babies had grown since they’d been here, and my heart broke for them a little bit. The leaving couldn’t have been easy. There was something special about this house.
It was the first house I had seen that was anywhere near adequate for a family with three young kids and two more on the way. We couldn’t stay where we were living with five children, and we couldn’t rent for less than the cost of a mortgage, so on Valentine’s Day, after we’d worked our budget out on paper a dozen different ways, we decided to buy it.
We called the realtor, but she had news of her own. “You won’t believe this,” she said. “Someone else put in an offer on that house today.”
I hung up the phone and looked at Jeff, who put his arms around me and said, “It wasn’t meant to be.”
I blinked back tears. That was my house. Whoever was trying to buy that house did not love it the way I did. They did not have three babies and two more on the way who needed that house.
I could not give up on it. Secretly, I watched the house online and waited for the “Sold” sign to appear in place of “Pending.”
It never did.
A month later, after viewing a dozen inadequate homes and very nearly giving up hope that we’d be able to find a decent house in a nice neighborhood for the money we had, that classic gray house, my house, was back on the market.
We bought it.
Then, we watched God provide.
The house was in need of some serious repairs and upgrades. We found free paint at a paint recycle station, a bathtub for $10 and a pedestal sink for $25 and a chandelier for $50. We found hardwood flooring on Craigslist and a brand-new stainless steel Samsung refrigerator for $100. There were solid wood doors for $30 each at a local liquidation store, strapped to the top of our minivan, and a series of scavenger hunts for just enough discounted tiles for the downstairs bathroom.
There was the carpet we saved for, agonized over, and ended up getting for free when it turned out to be defective enough to void the warranty but not defective enough to replace. We were given beds for the children, dressers that could be painted, and even a dining room table when we outgrew the one we had.
There was a brand-new lawn mower that had been returned to the store and marked down just before we came looking for one. The yard is bursting with plant starts from my mother-in-law, spring bulbs from my neighbor, and even a free rose bush from a lady who likes to talk to the children when she walks her dog past our house each day.
And everywhere, in every part of our house, there was the handiwork of people who came and helped, just because they love us.
I see it as I’m packing up and sorting through, preparing for the move we know will come. God is leading us on from here. I know it, and I am grateful, but I am shredded too. The bullet went in clean, but it did not come out that way.
In my humanity, I want to dig my roots in deeper instead of yielding to go. I want to hold on to this house because I have seen God here. I have been loved by God here. There’s a part of me that hurts to prepare this home, my home, for someone else, to share my neighbors with someone else, to leave my friends and my church to someone else.
I turn in my Bible and I read of all the wanderers, all those God called out of the places that were safe and comfortable, called out of the places where God had revealed His glory, shown His hand, and showered them with provision. There are many. Some seem to go without a second thought. But others ache with the going.
It is so tempting to stay.
But it is an act of faith to go, even when it hurts.
So I sort through the years of things that have filled our home and I yield to the sharpness that comes from leaving the places that have been most pleasant and I trust that even though it hurts, God’s going to make it come out clean.
Jen Hagen says
Been out in the mountains without internet access for a while so just now catching up on blogs I follow. Wanted to let you know that I am praying for you guys in the week ahead as big decisions are made and then possible big transitions too. Keep resting in the ONE Who holds your future.
Sara says
I have been following your blog for a couple weeks now and been reading through various posts and I saw this. I know the ache it can bring to move especially from a position where you have seen God working in your life. It can be an incredibly hard leap of faith to take. I can promise it is worth it, even if in the first year it doesn’t always seem that way. My husband is former military and we moved a number of times. The first year in a new area is always the toughest but if you lean into God that is when amazing growth happens. I suggest when you get settled at a new duty station see about your local PWOC (Protestant Women of the Chapel) chapter. Those ladies are wonderful and were a lifeline to sanity for me during deployments, and day to day struggles.
Kristen Glover says
Thank you so much, Sara. We are waiting on God and the decision from the chaplain review board! Hopefully, we’ll know by next Friday. We’re looking forwad to having some direction! I appreciate your prayers and thoughts of us as we (hopefully) jump in to military life! He has been in the military before, and he’s in the Reserves now, but it’s all new to me!
Andrea Vaughan says
Great post! As always 🙂
Guy says
I can completely relate to your story. God moved us from the house we were turning into a home not long ago…it was where we brought Mia home from the hospital and hoped to raise her and Emma. For some reason, and you may have read it already, I feel led to share my last post with you. It’s on home…lol. If you’ve read it, hope you liked. If not, and this is the first time, I pray it blesses you and your family.
In faith,
Guy
http://holyghostbumps.com/2013/04/01/home-is-in-your-heart/
Leslie A says
This is a little how I feel. While I am not moving, the bittersweet agony of watching my kids grow up and leave my house is a hard change for me. But I know God is faithful! And He has more work for me to do. I just have to figure out what it is 🙂 Thanks for a great post!
Jennifer says
I can’t really bring myself to think about you leaving. It just doesn’t seem real. And you leaving will leave such a hole here. But I’m confident that the Lord has you in His great big hands.
Whenever we leave a house we walk through each empty room and remind each other of the best times had there. We speak all those memories into the rooms before we close the doors. Bittersweet. We’re praying for you guys!
Anne Lashuay says
In a way I hate to see you go…but wherever God sends you, that’s where you need to be. And who knows, it might be close to us!
gail says
It truly is a lovely home. We, too, are moving. We must remember that we are safe in God’s will. hugs from Jersey
Amanda says
My thoughts are with you. I have not yet had to go through this, but I know it may very well be in our future. Every time my husband builds a piece of furniture to fit a certain corner perfectly or I watch my kids chase each other through the hall, I try hard not to imagine growing old and watching our kids grow to be adults here. I’m trying to drive into my heart the fact that my family is more important than the floor they walk on, while at the same time committing every beautiful view to memory. Thank you for your thoughts! Praying that God will continue to bless and that you will make even more beautiful memories wherever He leads you next!
Alicia Hendrickson says
Well a big HELLO from me! One of the fellow wanderers without a second thought.
If God has taught me anything, it’s to value the people I love and not the things that can always surround us. Do I cherish “things,” yes! But if they are taken from me or found lacking, I have this petrified layer of foundation from God that reminds me,” it’s only stuff. Matthew 6:19 “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal,” I remember this in the literal sense, well, because in the military, it’s true. It stinks to cut ties, it stinks to arrive in what could be your lifetime of paradise knowing it will only last 24months, but, it’s just stuff.
Home isn’t a building, it’s a group of people, my people;(ultimately its Aldo more than that) the ones I make the memories with, the ones I can look back on those memories with, and the ones I eagerly wait to make new ones with.
As I write, I’ve been on vacation for the past 9 days. A mere 7 hour international flight away from my current house overseas. You know what? My kids refer to our hotel room, Rm 1111, as home. Why? Cause its not the stuff, but the people, it’s our base-point for now; it’s where we all come together.
Memories of an area seem deep, and pulling up the roots seems painful, but you’ll soon find out He will enable you to bloom anywhere. That pain is quickly forgotten, replaced by new adventures, new lessons, upcoming memories, and the thrill of what lies around the corner.
Best of luck to you guys. I hope you are able to take the whole family through those important steps of closure. You are about to embark on a journey that will show you and your kids just how flexible you truly are.
Kristen Glover says
Amen amen amen! I’m looking forward to joining you in this journey, my friend. I’m actually really excited to get our first assignment, and we are praying hard that this works out and he is accepted without any further drama. I’m kind of tapped out on drama with this application! But I’m realizing I have allowed myself to think I’m going to stay here forever, and while I never intended to have that attitude, I find myself grieving the loss of certainty. I love your words of encouragement. Thank you!
Kristen Glover says
Thank you, Beth. I FEEL prayed for, and that is a blessing. I think it will help once we know where we’re going so we can having something to look forward to. Right now, it’s all good-byes with no hellos.
Beth Stratton says
You elegantly write out your agony-if it can ever be elegant. It’s not…it is painful. My heart aches as I read, and my emotions are rushing to the surface. Might need a tissue here in a sec. Your faith amazes me, and I know that God will richly bless you all. I am praying for you, Jeff and kids as you go through this process.