There is a certain mystery as to how some inanimate object can be meaningless while simultaneously facilitating the birth and growth of a family. This house that we are about to move from in two days is just a house. It was very good to us but there is much about it that I won't miss. It is simply a house. All of the important elements of my family are either coming with us or are greater at the new house. And yet I have been preparing to grieve this house ever since we first seriously discussed moving (since before Miss Z was born).
This house sheltered a couple of naive newlyweds while they learned the hard work of marriage. The neighborhood beckoned us on hundreds of walks and the horses nearby replenished our souls. The walls of our living room witnessed both of the births of my children - their first cries and the most intense feelings we had ever had. Our first gardens, birthday parties, skinned knees, tricycle rides, snow days, and puppies. This house is just brick and shingles, but somehow it has attached itself to the identity of our family. Because of all this, I have been praying for the next owners. Mostly my prayers have consisted of a desire for the next owners to love the back yard and the unique neighborhood to be a safe haven for them like it was us. It feels silly in one way, but it helps me grieve I guess.
If you have ever met J, you know how much this kid loves to hit a ball. From the moment he turned 2 and was given his first baseball tee, he was begging Mr. Butler to play ball with him in the back yard. The hours and hours they have spent in that yard will always be burned into my brain. It just makes me love the house and yard more because it housed the growing of us. The new house has an even bigger yard and will witness many more just as significant milestones, Lord willing, so the house really doesn't matter at all. But sometimes in life, especially as we transition, it is difficult to let go of something until we can acknowledge it's significance. No matter how glad I am to move on, I am so thankful God blessed our quick and (my) emotional purchase of this old house. So, to attest to some really great moments in our house, here are the pictures to prove it!
This house sheltered a couple of naive newlyweds while they learned the hard work of marriage. The neighborhood beckoned us on hundreds of walks and the horses nearby replenished our souls. The walls of our living room witnessed both of the births of my children - their first cries and the most intense feelings we had ever had. Our first gardens, birthday parties, skinned knees, tricycle rides, snow days, and puppies. This house is just brick and shingles, but somehow it has attached itself to the identity of our family. Because of all this, I have been praying for the next owners. Mostly my prayers have consisted of a desire for the next owners to love the back yard and the unique neighborhood to be a safe haven for them like it was us. It feels silly in one way, but it helps me grieve I guess.
If you have ever met J, you know how much this kid loves to hit a ball. From the moment he turned 2 and was given his first baseball tee, he was begging Mr. Butler to play ball with him in the back yard. The hours and hours they have spent in that yard will always be burned into my brain. It just makes me love the house and yard more because it housed the growing of us. The new house has an even bigger yard and will witness many more just as significant milestones, Lord willing, so the house really doesn't matter at all. But sometimes in life, especially as we transition, it is difficult to let go of something until we can acknowledge it's significance. No matter how glad I am to move on, I am so thankful God blessed our quick and (my) emotional purchase of this old house. So, to attest to some really great moments in our house, here are the pictures to prove it!
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