Yes, yes. Blogging has completely fallen by the wayside. We've been busy finding a new home, packing up the old, and settling in again.
We're not finished. It's been 19 days in this house and we are not finished unpacking. Yes, yes -- tis to be expected. This is the comforting explanation which I hear often. And to that I reply,
ppppppllllllffffffffffftttttt
I have never minded moving but I really, really like to get everything done quickly and efficiently. 19 days and still having boxes in the house is neither quick nor efficient in my world. Nor is it inviting or cozy to still have boxes about.
Now, in all honesty, our bedroom is the place where boxes go to await their disemboweling. We don't have boxes just stacked about downstairs. There is no way I could accept that notion as being par for the course.
I'm worn out. Between packing, cleaning, unpacking, cleaning, arranging, laundry, shifting, schooling, cooking, cleaning, training, encouraging, cleaning, baby growing, and still unpacking . . . I'm worn out.
But within the throes of it all, I want to remember to be grateful.
I want to remember how hard the final 12 months in our old home were. How difficult our situation became, how trapped we felt, how hard it was to decide to accept our situation with grace and patience and act accordingly.
I want to remember the trust we felt that God had the perfect home lined up. That as we looked at homes which would require so much compromise and turned them down because we believed there was better, it wasn't foolishness which drove the decision, but faith. The sheer joy which engulfed us upon learning we had been approved for the perfect home in the perfect location at the perfect price with the perfect timeline.
It has always been our goal to remember the sacrifices which came before. Whether it is reading about the choices of John & Abigail Adams which tremendously provided for the life we're able to live today or the letters from Scott's grandfather to his grandmother from Europe in the early 1940s as she kept the home fires burning and he fought tyranny or simply recalling managing to accomplish our laundry requirements in the basement of a third floor walk-up with three young children. We know that contentment in our current situation is much simpler to come by (and greatly enhanced by) remembering what was.
And so, I'm weary. But I am extremely grateful, content, and humbled by His continued blessings.
We're not finished. It's been 19 days in this house and we are not finished unpacking. Yes, yes -- tis to be expected. This is the comforting explanation which I hear often. And to that I reply,
ppppppllllllffffffffffftttttt
I have never minded moving but I really, really like to get everything done quickly and efficiently. 19 days and still having boxes in the house is neither quick nor efficient in my world. Nor is it inviting or cozy to still have boxes about.
Now, in all honesty, our bedroom is the place where boxes go to await their disemboweling. We don't have boxes just stacked about downstairs. There is no way I could accept that notion as being par for the course.
I'm worn out. Between packing, cleaning, unpacking, cleaning, arranging, laundry, shifting, schooling, cooking, cleaning, training, encouraging, cleaning, baby growing, and still unpacking . . . I'm worn out.
But within the throes of it all, I want to remember to be grateful.
I want to remember how hard the final 12 months in our old home were. How difficult our situation became, how trapped we felt, how hard it was to decide to accept our situation with grace and patience and act accordingly.
I want to remember the trust we felt that God had the perfect home lined up. That as we looked at homes which would require so much compromise and turned them down because we believed there was better, it wasn't foolishness which drove the decision, but faith. The sheer joy which engulfed us upon learning we had been approved for the perfect home in the perfect location at the perfect price with the perfect timeline.
It has always been our goal to remember the sacrifices which came before. Whether it is reading about the choices of John & Abigail Adams which tremendously provided for the life we're able to live today or the letters from Scott's grandfather to his grandmother from Europe in the early 1940s as she kept the home fires burning and he fought tyranny or simply recalling managing to accomplish our laundry requirements in the basement of a third floor walk-up with three young children. We know that contentment in our current situation is much simpler to come by (and greatly enhanced by) remembering what was.
And so, I'm weary. But I am extremely grateful, content, and humbled by His continued blessings.
