The Past Six Months Of My Life

It's January 1st, 2017.
In July 2016, I sold my childhood home to my daughter and her family. Three generations now in the home on Creek Road. I could try to tell you how much that home meant to me, how that porch was my haven, my safe place, how I always wanted to get back to it when I was gone for long, the memories of my childhood there, of raising my children there, the traditions we made, how I always said I wanted to die in that house........I could try to tell you but I could never make any of you understand.
We moved in with my mama, my husband and I did. We bought this little house on Maple Street about 15 years ago for my mama and daddy to live in. My daddy never really did enjoy living here, his mind was nearly gone to Alzheimer's. After Daddy died, Mama lived alone, bravely, for nearly eight years. She's at a point where she needs help now.
Selling the house to my daughter, moving in with my mama was absolutely the right decision. Knowing that my grandboys will be raised in the same house that I was raised in, the one I raised my children in, brings a peace and joy that I can't explain. They have already made it their own. Lots of renovations and additions...it is beautiful.

One night, probably in September, during the renovations, I went there all alone. The house was empty, no family, no furniture, original bare oak floors, no ceilings, just wooden beams from 50 years ago, no electricity, the only light was from the full moon that night, shining in every bare window....so quiet. I walked through every room. The tiny back bedroom I shared with my sister, the room where I played as a child and where I dreamed and planned as a teenager.  I stood in the hallway and remembered so vividly, hearing my daddy get up early in the mornings to go to work, the sound of him stirring his coffee, me sometimes meeting him in the kitchen to say goodbye to him. The living room, so bare, so quiet, so many memories. And the kitchen. The place where I discovered that I had a love for cooking, it was never a chore, I always loved it....it was my therapy.
And that porch. The swing was still there. I don't know how long I sat there, swinging, sobbing, asking Him for peace, knowing it was right, knowing I had to leave, trying to say goodbye.
I walked through the house one final time and I prayed in every room. I prayed that peace and joy and love and protection would fill this home for my daughter, my son-in-law, my grandboys.
I felt it as I walked out. That peace. That knowing. It was hard. But it was right.

When I go there now, it is different, yet the same. I don't cry anymore when I leave.

These past six months have been teaching me something. I have grieved. Not just for the house. For a lot of things. Things of life. Of changes. Of uncertainty. A sadness of knowing......
I have not been myself. I have felt a little lost. I have been in a place I have never been before... emotionally, physically, spiritually.......
But.
I am learning.
He is teaching.
Of that I am sure.
I am hopeful.

My phrase for 2017 is "Live What Matters".
The next chapter.
Intentional.
Fully engaged.
Let all that is within me.......