At what seems like long last, we have begun packing. I say ‘at long last’ because the very day, probably the very hour we moved into our current home, I made Anthony promise me that we wouldn’t live here next year, even if we stayed in Boise. The first few weeks here were hard. I’d drive around town and see other places for rent and wonder why we couldn’t live there. Even though I’m self-described home-body, I preferred to be out and about rather than in our place. I went so far as to tell myself that I don’t love being pregnant, but I can do that for nine months, so surely I could live here for just as long.
And I have.
Looking back, I realized that this place, though I certainly haven’t loved it, not by any stretch of the imagination, has changed me. We left a gorgeous home in Colorado, a four bedroom, 2.5 bathroom house with a yard, a beautiful kitchen, and room to grow. We came to a 3 bedroom, 1.5 bathroom townhouse with no yard, and zero room to grow. I am fairly certain that our master bedroom back home is bigger than the living room where we currently live.
In a lot of ways this place has made me appreciate what we had in Colorado. But in other, dare I say more sanctifying ways, this place serves as a reminder that I don’t actually need to be so comfortable in this life. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that I shouldn’t be all that comfortable. Living here has given me plenty – and I do mean plenty – to offer up. This townhouse has shown me that happiness comes more from the people who fill the home than the home itself.
Of course none of this is to say that I hope to live someplace like this again. Believe me, I’m praying so very, very hard for something better for the coming year. We’ve got an idea of where we could be headed (but nothing official yet, so I’ll keep it to myself for now and just ask for your continued prayers for our placement), so naturally I started scouting out housing options. Y’all, the very thought of living some place with a garbage disposal (which we don’t have currently) is bringing me to tears. Full blown, ugly cry, tears. And for goodness sake, if a garbage disposal can bring me to tears, what must heaven be like? As the song goes, I can only imagine…
So as we pack up and I eagerly count down the days until I never have to step foot in this place again, I’m surprisingly grateful for this place, for being stripped of comfort, space, and seemingly simple things like a garbage disposal. I’m grateful for the opportunity to live in a place I would never have chosen for myself and yet finding joy, laughter, and so much life within these walls. We’ve lived here, we’ve loved here, we brought life (Mistletoe!) home here, we’ve shared hard times and good times with friends who have become like family. We’ve filled every nook and cranny with as much life as we could, inviting others to spend time with us as we all strive for heaven. And do you know what? It all happened within these walls, no matter how much I cried the day we’ve moved in. Did I try every Pinterest hack out there to make the most of the space? No, but we sure did fill this space with more life than I ever thought possible. Here’s to finding joy in unexpected places and making the most out of whatever the Lord puts in our path.