Last night was our last night in our house.
After running errands and packing, we sat down (on our floor) to homemade pork chop, brussels sprout, green beans, and cookies – courtesy of Becca (thank you, friend – it was the most timely of gifts!).
We bathed and showered the girls, put on PJs, brushed teeth, read books…just like we have for the past four years.
Tim stayed up late boxing things up and making trips in a borrowed truck to various places. I fell asleep early (right beside my girls).
Now, it it dark and the house is quiet. I am sitting here typing at a card table, perched on a 3-legged camp chair. I’m feeling surprisingly nostalgic – looking around at my empty home, scattered belongings on the floor. This is where I rocked my babies, nursed them, stayed up through the night when they were sick, watched my toddler run across the great room, made love to my husband, and danced in the kitchen to make my girls laugh at the breakfast table.
I catch my breath (barely breathing). This isn’t a dream.
I’ve never prayed more.
Yesterday, I was thinking about our neighborhood – the community here, the culture that has developed, the things we’ve appreciated, the things we desire, and the things we would have done differently.
It’s funny how we often overlook the people who live the closest to us. We tend to make friends at church, at work, at school…and we’re always driving places. Here. There. Everywhere.
Even so, I feel like I could have done so much more. I could have been better.
Sometimes I wish I could open up my heart and just lay it out right here on the screen.
I’m not shy, but I’m also not all-sanguine.
My mom had me when she was 33. The year was 1982. I was the third child. They didn’t know it then, but there would be three more after me too.
4. She homeschooled me. I just realized when I wrote this line that I need to write a post about all of the ways homeschooling made me who I am today. For now, I’ll simply say that being schooled at home impacted me in profound and wonderful ways. It prepared me socially, emotionally, mentally, even physically…for life.
I am tired.
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On Sunday morning, our church did something different. All the kids classes were cancelled and everyone (ages 0-100) attended the service together. There was music, a laughter-filled puppet show, a children’s story, and family communion. Afterward, everyone sat outside and ate pie. Children were everywhere the whole time – babies toddling, little ones skipping through the grass, and older kids impressing their friends. It was a beautiful scene. (I should have taken a picture w/ my phone).
The whole caravan went trick-or-treating together. Our 4-year-old dressed up as Cinderella. Our 19-month-old was the cutest cowgirl in the wild, wild west. After awhile, we sat in our driveway. Our 4-year-old yelled, “Candy! Can–deee!” to all the people passing by. She even dumped HER entire trick-or-treating bag into the bowl to hand out to other costumed kids.
