As a family preparing to move to another state, it's hard not to get emotional about it. We prep by saving boxes and newspaper, and watch the headlines tick the time away.
It's the first place we have lived as a married couple, the place we brought our first child home to. The things that make it a home will come with us. We will place frames on new walls and when we look at the photographs within, we will have the same memories. But the floors and walls will not be the same. The floors that endured many nights of pacing with our newborn daughter. I knelt on these floors while in labor, waiting for her to come into the world. My husband and I have sat on these floors and prayed, talked, had Italian-style dinners and listened to Pandora stream on the computer. This kitchen has witnessed our faults in our cooking styles, as well as in eachother, and how we have matured to address them both.
One day soon we will pack our cars and drive cross country to the start of something unknown. But isn't that true all our life? From the moment my daughter- and each of us- arrived into the world, we have entered the unknown. Some of us have done it fearlessly, others with wonder, and some with hesitation.
“At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.”
―C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
If we must move and continue doing so until our days are done, may we do so with open arms and vibrant hearts. Hearts full of wonder and of memories. I hope our homes tell our stories and that they create a sanctuary from the chaos that the world is. Dear homes, homes that are just walls until we embrace them- adorn them- may you nurture souls and be places of love.
#store (who loves organic nautical baby onesies?!)