Well. We have survived The Move. And by “The Move”, I mean The LAST Move we’ll ever endure because I fully intend to live here the rest of my days because moving ain’t no joke. I think I’m living in some strange sort of moving PTSD reality because I can’t even glance at a U-Haul these days without waves of stress and sympathy washing over me. It’s bad.
So, because I’m still in recovery mode, we’re going to simplify this whole catch-up blog post thing. I’m breaking the past few weeks into Pre-Move, Moving Day(s), and Post-Move. It’ll be captivating, I’m sure.
Part I: Pre-Move:
Our final days in Clayton were spent saying goodbye to our favorite places,
our favorite people,
and our favorite ERs. Ahem.
Survival was my #1 goal of each day. In case you’re wondering what survival looks like, look no further. I ran errands for an entire morning with a winged, tutu-ed, pajama-clad child. You know, whatever.
Mother’s Day was also thrown in there somewhere. This picture makes it appear as though things that day were calm and restful and full of lovingkindness. All of those things would be lies. Just so you know. Because MOVING. (Also, urgent care visits. And moving.)
Part II: Moving Day(s)
Fast forward a few short days (also void of rest and calm and general lovingkindness), the truck arrived and even more chaos set in. Lemme put it to you this way: within an hour of our movers arriving, we had a broken wall, a broken washing machine, and a broken mover. I don’t wanna talk about it.
But we did it. With loads of help. This was the morning we moved out. Again, repeat after me: PICTURES LIE.
Oh, and you know what? This sweet scene ALSO was from moving day. Because naturally Carson’s big first grade performance would be scheduled for the day we move an hour away. But we rallied. And he rocked it.
Part III: Post-Move
While our new house is great and all, we really haven’t been IN it much over the past two weeks. I’ve started a long list of places to explore. And so, that’s what we’re doing.
Exploring.
And, well, exploring some more.
I did eventually call in some reinforcements because, while I love to LOOK AT pretty things in my home, I don’t particularly enjoy the PROCESS of making things in my home look pretty. However, in God’s sovereignty, He gave me a mother who lives to decorate. Thank you, Jesus. And mom.
Hours after her visit had come to an end and our house was finally in some semblance of order, we decided to test out the real limits of our new abode by hosting my sister, bro-in-law, and three kids. Oh. My. Goodness.
And somewhere in there, we’ve begun to find rest. I have plans, a lot of plans, for this summer. Many will go by the wayside as they always do. But there is this one grandiose plan I have- to allow ourselves to truly rest and to be– that I am unwilling to waver on. Between surgeries and moves and allofthethings, the past nine months have been nothing short of ridiculous. And so we now sit back and we soak up the goodness and faithfulness of our God who has carried us and sustained us and has provided so much more abundantly than we could have even asked.