This past week flew by. As I sit here, one week after moving, I almost can't believe it's done. We have boxed everything up, loaded up truck after truck, had movers carry each piece of furniture, rolled every glass in newspaper, went through every piece of clothing, sheets, blankets, and coats deciding where they should end up, examined every little item that was found underneath beds, and cleaned out every bathroom down to every tiny little hair rubber band. GONE. My packing method started off super. Boxes were labeled with contents that went together all rolled up in newspaper. By the last few days I was just scooping up what was left in the house and throwing it into a box or bag!
I'm not super keen on change. I like our routines, schedules, daily tasks, weekly events. I think I create life for lifeless objects. Like our house for example. That place housed our life and gave us a spot to grow as a family. It's real to me. During the weeks of packing, I would envision myself standing hugging the front door, tears streaming down my face as we pulled out of the driveway for the last time. We would all be together in Sherman as a family, waving our goodbye's to the trusty Blanchard Boulevard home. I thought of the pictures I would take. One last shot of the kids here...
Funny how different it goes that what we envision sometimes! Turns out, there would be no hugging, no tears, no waving, no pictures. I didn't even make it back into the house to walk through the empty rooms for one last look, or to acknowledge that this was my last time here. I hurriedly left with a load to take to the new house thinking that I would get over sometime in the next two days to clean it all before the closing on Friday. Nope. Never happened. I am so grateful for TJ's mom who insisted that she would clean for us. What a gift that was! And just like that, our transition was complete. A new home houses our life. And it is so good.
I almost feel like we have lived here forever as crazy as that sounds! This new home is so perfect for us. In one week we have cleaned, moved furniture and put away most of our stuff. I had a week long meditation going on inside my head while cleaning. Thank you Blessed Mother Theresa! Let me explain. As I dug into cleaning the kitchen, bathrooms, fridge, carpets....I was trying so hard not to complain about what a nasty job it was. I gave myself a challenge of quietly offering up any disgusting job I was doing instead of grumpily saying disgusting a gazillion times. Oh, I had good intentions! I just couldn't keep my mouth shut! Finally as I was cleaning the fridge and mentally insulting the previous owners for letting something drip all down the back of the fridge...it came to me. Beautiful Mother Theresa. I thought of the dying people lying on the streets that she would cradle in her arms. I thought of the disgusting, puss oozing sores that she would touch and bandage, never letting the words nasty, gross or disgustiong slip form her lips. It made cleaning the spilled barbecue sauce seem not as bad. Through out the rest of the week I was at least aware of how silly I was being as I was pouting over the dog hair I was trying to get out of the carpet. And because things aren't perfect in this house (it was built in 1961) I somehow feel less inclined to clean it so well, or have it perfect. This is a great house for us to live in. I'm so ready to continue our life here, so close to church, school, and friends.