Like tulips pushing forth from the snow
|This was the view we woke up to*|
After two years of planning and talking about it, our little Texas home is FINALLY just about ready to move into! (insert bells, whistles, shouts of fanfare here.)
Cub Sweetheart and I have a list as long as our arms of stuff that needs to be done before we hit the road next week. Interestingly, our little Idaho townhouse never felt completely lived in until this stay. I've realized you have to really live in a place for it to ever feel like home, and that's been a good thing. Shelves are filled with books to be read (likely never going to happen), piles of yarn to be knit, the desk is covered with piles of papers to be filed or shredded, etc. etc. etc. We've been so thankful to spend this much time here. This time it wasn't a 'visit'; rather it was just being home and that made it feel all the more cozy. In spite of living through 111" of snow, we also got to spend hours and hours with our Idaho kids; we got to go to church with them, we babysat and loved on our six grandkids who live here; we had so many fun family get-togethers, and lots of impromptu lunches, etc. I'm sure God knew how long we needed to be here, and we were blessed to store so much up in our hearts this time.
So while we're busy making plans to load up the van with us and Lily and all the other stuff we dragged up here for this long stay, we're also having last lunches, dinners, trying to finish up library books that have to be returned, and cull out the stuff we didn't use, wear, eat, read, etc. I've got a trunk full of stuff to take to Goodwill later this week. I've found the end of a season is the perfect time to cull out your wardrobe. If I didn't wear it at all this winter, I likely never will, so off it goes to a new home.
I also found a house cleaner here in Idaho, who will come in as I need her, clean for however long it takes to get things back into ship-shape for seasonal visitors, and send me a bill. So one thing I won't be doing before we leave is scrubbing, mopping, vacuuming, dusting, or changing sheets.
I'll take that last one as proof that 'his mercies are new everyday."
Much like the buds popping out on the trees around us, I'm feeling myself rejoining life all around me. When someone you love dies, you die a little bit yourself, at least for a little while. Then slowly, like the tulips pushing forth from the snow, you re-emerge and life starts to flow back into you. I'm feeling thankful to be alive, to experience the wonder of spring, to gaze on the faces and hear the voices of those I love and hold dear. The world is feeling more full of promise and hope, and I'm thankful the weight of responsibility that has been on me for the past few years has been lifted. I know my mother would be proud of how all of her kids rallied around her, to be sure she was taken care of. I also know she would be okay when that weight was gone. So I'm going to be okay with it too.
I slipped away for a girl's night sleepover with my two girls - in 22 hours we had pedicures/manicures, ate pizza and sipped wine, sat and talked long, went out for dessert and decaf, stayed up too late, ate omelets (and sipped coffee with lots of caffeine to make up for lack of sleep) at a table with a killer view, spent an hour in the hot tub, checked out of the hotel and perused the hotel shoppes that are full of beautiful things ridiculously expensive, and had one last little lunch before we went back to reality. Sometimes escaping is just the thing the doctor ordered!