It’s Monday. And raining. As if that weren’t a bad enough combo, it’s also the day I have to finish up packing up this house. It is eerily quiet here with the girls back in Lexington. And I don’t feel very motivated to finish packing up eight years’ worth of stuff into cardboard boxes just to haul off and unpack again.
It’s time to close out this chapter. On so many levels. Not just my job, but my marriage, my girls’ infant years, my perspective. This is the last night I will spend in this house. Faith & Zoe will never remember this house. They won’t remember that there are crayon marks & Dora stickers on Faith’s headboard. They won’t remember the long hours we sat in the floor of the family room with Zoe’s therapists–helping her grow strong enough to roll over, to sit up, to crawl, & now finally–after 2 1/2 years–work on walking. Faith won’t remember the day we brought her home & our dog Murphy licking all over her face. The nights I rocked her in the rocking chair, crying because we’d gotten a diagnosis of Spina Bifida for Zoe & I had no idea what it meant for our future–& for Faith.
Now–it is chapter two. No longer is Spina Bifida a big deal to me. No longer do I fret over crayon marks & stickers. After all–that’s better than digging silly putty out of the carpet, right? Or worse–hair 🙂
Now–my big deals feel bigger. Overwhelmingly bigger at times. I know I serve a God who does big things. Unimaginable things. Can make beautiful things from dust. But sometimes it’s hard to not think that some things my heart desires are just a little TOO big. It’s hard to not have that proverbial crystal ball.
I know a time will come when, just like I do now, I look BACK. And I’m not staring forward into the unknown with fear. When chapter two becomes as clear as chapter one is now. Hindsight is 20/20 after all. Life is a marathon, not a sprint. I realize that. And I know I can’t skip chapters because then you get lost & miss out on some good stuff along the way. But sometimes it sure would be nice to have a spoiler alert 😉