And so it is, the season I have long feared.
I knew it would come and
know it is for the best but it doesn't make it easy.
The very place that I have called home for the past five years, will soon no longer be mine.
It is the place that we
ran through as a young married couple dreaming of our future. Room by
room we planned how this very place would house our history. The place
with rooms to spare, a school district to be proud of, and amenities
for a growing family.
It is the very place where I first learned I would be a
mom and the refuge I needed during the highs and lows. It was my
safe haven that allowed me to relish the life within me without the
weight of the world. The place where I read to her, where we built a snowman, and where I once dreamed her nursery to be. It is the place where my water broke, where I crawled back to after her death, and where I returned after her memorial service. It is the place where my empty arms
ensured that there was a tangible reminder of my child in each and every room. This is the place where she was alive within me.
This is where I
grieved, where I screamed in anger and sobbed in brokenness.
It is where I healed.
And yet, this place
houses the room where I was when I learned of his infidelity, the stairs
that I sat upon and watched as he carried out his things, and the garage where I
collapsed as he drove off to his new life.
And again, it
became my refuge. Where I hid. Where I ran to. Where I was home. A safe haven as I doubted my worth at my lowest of
lows. These walls have watched me slowly find my feet as I rediscovered who I
was created to be. O, if only they could talk. It has been my constant through the changes, my sanctuary, my protection, my home.
And yet, it is just a place.
And yet, it is just a place.
A materialistic existence of my former
life. The last of what once was.
And so, it is time. Time to collect what is and walk away.
More than the physical place, I will grieve what this place once stood for, the comfort I have always found within, and the vivid memories that will remain. It's a loss of another part of what was once me and walking away begs the question of where do I belong now.
Where is home?
Though I know not where I will land, I know that my true refuge isn't bound in these walls. It is in Him.
------
From the love of my own comfort
From the fear of having nothing
From a life of worldly passions
Deliver me O God
From the fear of having nothing
From a life of worldly passions
Deliver me O God
A chord from a hymn we sang the week I decided it was time to sell.
Coincidence? I think not. Confirmation.
