So, it's official...we are moving! It has been a bit of a crazy whirlwind in the past few weeks, but we closed on our "new" house this week. Between packing and parenting two little ones at home, I have been keeping busy. We will be moving a little more north (where I grew up), but not too far away. This whole process has been a mixture of emotions for us both as we are so excited to have more space and be closer to family, but sad to move away from an area and friends that we have grown to love.
Through this process, I have been reminded that I am a sentimental mover. Moving is always a little emotional for me, because every place I live holds special memories for me. And, although I take the memories with me after I move, I kind of feel like I am leaving a little piece of me or part of my life behind after I leave. I remember the townhouse that I lived in before I married Eric. I have such wonderful memories of spending time with my girlfriends, dating Eric, and enjoying my job. To this day, it's still a little bittersweet for me when I drive by that area since it reminds me of such a precious time in my life. I remember when Eric and I moved into our townhouse the first year we were married. It wasn't anything spectacular, but I have such fond memories of our evening walks, going out for ice cream (just across the street) in the summer, our conversations...it was such a special time. Truth be told, every time I drive by that area, it still makes me a little sad to think that we will never have that time back again.
Actually, I have an early childhood memory of my first move ever. It was the summer I turned eight. We were moving from our little house in Palatine, and it was the only home I had ever known. I still remember how sad I felt the day we were moving. I had convinced myself that the house itself was sad to see us go. Even though I knew better in my head, my heart was telling me that those walls, the walls that had been a part of our lives for what seemed like forever to me, felt like we were abandoning them. I knew that they would "move on" and learn to love another family, but I felt a connection to them. They had looked in on us at all times, they had protected us and kept us safe...they quiety observed our lives, our memories. I literally went through every room, kissed the walls, and said goodbye. Oh, I know it's silly, but a little girls imagination is a powerful thing.
And as an adult, I admit that part of this sentimentality has stuck with me. I am always a little sad when I move, even if it is a good thing. So, I am certain that (more) tears will be shed when we leave. After the final box is loaded, and I look back in the empty rooms, I will see the memories that have made me so fond of this place. Here is where we started our home-buying journey. Here is where I first experienced the joy of being a mother. Here is where I heard my son's first words and saw his first steps. Here is where I saw my daughter's first smile. Some of the most special moments that I will ever experience happened in this house. But, even though I can get caught up in the emotional aspect of making such a big transition, I have come a long way from that little girl who believed that leaving a house, that special place with all the memories, was a bad thing. God is faithful to remind me that it's not really about the house itself. He gently tells me that it is not the house or the walls that have given me such precious memories. He's the one who gives me that. He is the one that looks in on us at all times. He protects us and keeps us safe. He is the observer of our lives. He goes with us when we leave. He is the provider of every special moment that I experiece. Actually, it's not about the house at all.
So, northbound, we go. To a new house, with a whole lot of new memories to make. But, among all the transition and "new-ness" going on, there is one thing that isn't going to change...a faithful, ever-present God who loves me and goes with me wherever I go.
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