Monday, June 11, 2018

When Here Feels Like There?

This was taken the morning we left the farm. I'm following Farmer Boy to our next adventure.

And so here we are.

We have moved. We packed it up and headed out and now we are here.

Are we moved in?

Not quite but we have done a lot of work in the last week.

This is our family room. Our new couch is coming on Thursday!
I now know I never want to ever move again.
That's good to know.
I also know that going through your things and purging is a good thing, probably a necessary thing that should be done every five years or so? I'm not sure but I do know that we had way too much stuff.
Unnecessary stuff.
Ridiculous stuff.
Which is very good to know. It helps loosen my hold and gives me perspective.

Our backyard patio that needs swept and patio furniture, which is next week's project.

I'm still slightly speechless, caught in some kind of in-between place. No longer there but here. Here but here doesn't quite feel like there, not yet. We have been working so hard to get unpacked, to get settled, but the creaks, the squeaks and the groans sound wrong.

I'm trying to remember where I put my mixing bowls and my spatula. I lay awake at night thinking about area rugs and house plants and paint colors.

Our sitting room is pretty much done. Not bad right?

Most of my deeper thoughts have been pushed aside, maybe they are in that box that I still can't find.  But when I get around to it and take the time to sit still, I will take in the morning song that goes on outside my patio door and the quieter side of me will show up.
The quieter me is still there - or here, or wherever.
She was there and she is here.
She craves truth and beauty, kindness and authenticity, affirmation, adoration and hand-holding when life gets too loud and heavy.
Some things never change no matter if I'm here or there.

Yep. A front porch compete with a swing. Love, love, love it. You are welcome anytime.

The best part about her is her unshakeable knowledge that all this matters. Area rugs and paint colors matter. It might seem ordinary and unimportant in the grand scheme of things but ordinary life really isn't ordinary is it?  It pulses and a breathes because hope, faith and love live in the everyday.

She believes that this place can be a blessing, a sanctuary, a home and that matters.

Home matters.

It is an offering. We lift it up and give it back to the one who blessed us with it in the first place.

We raise it up and ask that His will be be done here as it is in heaven. We ask for a piece of his kingdom to shine through these lead glass windows and to bounce off these hardwood floors.

We got a new bed! It's a king and it's GLORIOUS.

I have my own little writing corner and I couldn't be more happy.

She knows that this is why we are here in the first place. So excuse me while I go make supper. I'm quite certain my spatula might just show up.