We're moving at the end of this month, going to take over "a fortress" while the owners serve an LDS mission in Finland. I'm delighted to move, especially as winter starts to come on. While there are so many joys I will miss about this townhouse (namely, the mules in the backyard and the memories), I'm already feeling the coldness that seeps from the single-pained windows. Fortunately, no frogs or slugs have crept into the dryer vent--yet.
Tyler has definitely been the motivated one as far as packing goes. He was explaining to me last night that it probably took him more time than it needed to to stack boxes in the guest room because he loves to make things "fit perfectly." We are definitely from a different mold. I'm grateful for his somewhat OCD tendencies, as they definitely compensate for my more "creative" qualities (also referred in a former life as being "me_sy"--it's still a swear word to me).
I ramble. All this packing and organizing left me in a good place this morning to start taking pictures and wall hangings down. Nothing says moving like blank walls. I feel it's important to have this transition time, to take away and pack layer after layer of the home we built while we lodged in this house.
As I took down this wall hanging from my mother-in-love, which has been hanging over our staircase, I paused for several minutes:
Most people know the serenity prayer (if at all) from AA or other addiction recovery programs. I think we all have addictions in our lives. The addiction to want to control, the addition of over-eating, the addiction of gossip, etc, etc--not just drugs and pornography, though lots of good people struggle with those, too.
But this morning, my pause was a pause of overwhelming gratitude. The Spirit of God swelled in my heart and ended up emptying my eyes of some moisture, as I realized how much closer I have come in living out this charge; I have been given--by God--acceptance, courage, and wisdom in sorting out the painful parts of my life. Annette gave this quote to us the Christmas after our late-staged miscarriage. 10 months later and the wounds were still fresh. I could not heal from that experience until I came to a place of acceptance, of courage to change the things I actually have control over. The bitterness of loss has been cultivating a place in my heart for hope, for joy, for love in unexpected ways.
This morning, on the staircase, I thanked my God for every opportunity for growth (aka as disappointment, discouragement, heartache, pain) that I've experienced, here in this house:
"And the blessing of the Lord shall rest upon thee and thy house"
Alma 10:7
I feel the blessings. I feel them today.
4 comments:
Beautiful, Sundy! Doubtless, the home you've built in your townhouse has come through hard times and wonderful times. I'm excited for the new home you'll build while you hold the fortress down. Sounds like a sacred opportunity prepared just for the Anderson family.
Love this post Sundy. Love you. Thanks for reminding me of some important things.
What a gift you are, to those who know you, and to this one whose blessing is to call you daughter.
I just realize that my comment may have sounded to you like I was taking some kind of credit for you... and so, just to be sure, let me clarify. I have a deep understanding (God-granted wisdom) about what I have and have not controlled throughout my life. I hear God's voice in your words, more and more as I grow and you share. I love Him. I love You.
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