Last week we moved from our home of fourteen years. It was both exciting and a tad bit sad. In 2000 we built that house. It was in a cookie-cutter neighborhood, you know the type, all the houses look alike, but still all the same, we enjoyed it. Our kids were little at the time, Sarah was in the second grade, Caleb went to kindergarten at Bethesda, and little Hannah had just turned three. We couldn't wait to move in and fill it. Only I didn't realize we would be filling it with memories and not things.
This time of the year and the move has made me sentimental. I mopped the kitchen floor in preparation for the new owners. Memories lingered in almost every room. I touched a nick in the door frame caused by a baby gate to keep the dogs out of the laundry room. A vision of Caleb swells in my mind, of him bouncing down the stairs on a large exercise ball. A feat he couldn't recreate if he tried. Over in the corner of the family room was where we always put our live Christmas tree. Upstairs the kids all crammed into one bedroom on Christmas eve so we could keep a better eye on them, and because it was super cute to hear them giggle. In the kitchen, I could almost smell the turkey cooking. All of the memories crowded the now empty house. I wandered into our oldest daughters bedroom and peeked in her closet. On one of the walls I found these words:
A lump formed in my throat, when she wrote that so many years ago, did she know that it would impact me so? A stray tear fell down my cheek. God does indeed have perfect timing. He knew it all.
Our new-old home was built in 1926, and I can only imagine what this house has seen through its 88 years, families shared laughter and tears. We are just now settling in, putting up family pictures on the wall, or cherished keepsakes on a shelf. Each room whispers a past, and I can't wait to be a part of it and fill it with even more memories, and look forward to finding God's perfect timing!