Jim Jackson came under protest; as he did not condone our move. Hank Howell came with a sense of humor; when the box labeled "Baby Jesus" was passed to him, he said "There's no room". Scott Howell came; even though his Saturday was already full to overflowing with earlier promises he made to serve other people, he still fit in one more last minute service project for his sister. Brother Larson came, and had the good sense to bring rope.The following week the hired help came and; one piano, four armoirs, and five pizzas later, emptied the rest of the house.
We left it the way we found it, only more loved, more clean and forever haunted by the loss of the best family that will ever live there. I know the walls will miss us, the kitchen island will weep and don't even get me started on the flower gardens.You know you've been packing too long when you finish taping up a box and turn around to see this scene and you think: "oh how pretty...that's the perfect lighting for a disheveled room" and you snap a picture. You know you've been packing too long when you walk into a store and see a bag of packing peanuts as tall as you are and suddenly hear choirs singing. You know you've been packing WAY too long when you go from an elaborately detailed inventory Sharpied on the top of every box, to "More Stuff" barely scribbled legibly on the last five or six.
We are not there, we are here and patiently waiting to find out about our family's next "where".
I'm not sure exactly where the Lord wants us to be right now, but I do know it's not anywhere near "settled" (or California...please Lord, not California). It's neck n neck right now between North Carolina and Chicago. North Carolina=familiar, been-there-done-that, easy. Chicago=totally new, kind of exciting, but definitely harder. But given the past three months, I'm not sure I can even count on the choices being the same from one day to the next anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment