What you do in your house is worth as much as if you did it up in heaven for our Lord God. We should accustom ourselves to think of our position and work as sacred and well-pleasing to God, not on account of the position and work, but on account of the word and faith from which the obedience and the work flow. ~ Martin Luther

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Mourning


Tape rolls in every room. Brown paper covering the floor. A little girl wakes up every morning, excited and beaming "Let's get packing!" and the rest of the day, she hoards the markers, anxious to do her job. Boxes filled and lining walls; boxes empty, piled high and waiting to be made useful. Everywhere-cluttered, yet newly bare. Exposed. Naked.

The walls are being stripped of their beauty as I carefully wipe the dust off of picture frames-printed memories, wrap them up and hide them in a dark box. My very few 'pretties' were the first to be packed away-because, they aren't really necessary to live by. Right? Books are being boxed-with just a shelf or two left free lest we go mad.

Everywhere, decisions. What would be wise to pack now? What are the things we use least? What might we need access to right away?

Thinking ahead...yet reminiscing. I tuck away our wedding picture and stumble upon a pile of congratulations cards from Andrew's birth. I carefully wrap the silver tray that was a wedding gift for Oma and Opa, then passed along to me. Covered with brown, their wedding photo is wrapped along with some old photos from Matt's side of the family. Toys are happily thrown in boxes. I'm happy to be rid of picking them up for a week or two.

All around, I am tucking away my life. One box at a time. The house that was our home is becoming foreign. Unwelcoming. Sad. Pitiful. It doesn't make me happy anymore. The blank walls stare back at me, glaring in anger at our abandonment.

For a long time, I thought how sad and plain our house is. How important things on the wall are to making a house feel lived in, comfortable and beautiful. I see though, it isn't the home that makes us happy, it isn't even the things IN the home. These thinga are treasures that only we hold dear, for sure but the true beauty of our home is the tapestry of love that was woven here, the memories that were bonded together. The things we use to decorate are not the things of beauty, it is the memories that they hold. The potholders that have decorated each kitchen I have ever used. The cookbook that I bought before I was married, inscribed " Rebecca Cantrell, soon-to-be Newman. 2001

It is sad to say goodbye to a part of your life, even if it is done while looking forward to your future. To close a chapter in your life book. It is not without sadness that the boxes are filled. Many tears have been shed on my part. I have felt overwhelmed. Not just with the huge task set before me of packing and preparations, but overwhelmed with all that must first be "let go" before we can move on. All that must be sacrificed, even for a time, for our future.

I am no longer surrounded by our memories, but brown paper. The good and beautiful is being packed away and the ugly is taking its place.

There is much more work to be done~ much more still left to do. Many more goodbyes. More time I must live among paper and boxes.

Knowing that it will all be over in just a few weeks doesn't seem to help any, either.
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