Packing my home feels like undressing the dead. Taking the pictures off the walls and clearing the mantle, disrobing my home and making her a blank canvas again upswells all the sediment from the bottom of the well. All the hopes and joy that I felt while unpacking, while setting up my beautiful home, now rise on the gentle swirl of sorrow in the tide. It’s not cruel or malicious. It just is, and seems almost gently mindful of my sorrow as it swells up and breaks the surface of the water, to float away in the cool winter sunlight. My tears dry into tight trails on my cheeks, and time rolls on.
10 thoughts on “Moving, Part II”
you have such a beautiful way with words. i’m so sorry you have to do this. i wish i was there to bring you lunch while you pack, and watch your kids for you.
My heart breaks all over again while I read your words. It’s been 11 years in real time for me, 11 minutes when I come here. And while I know it won’t mean much to you now, while life is raw, but I want you to know that my life today is so much better than the one I had imagined “before”. The dreams I had then died just like yours did, but what I didn’t know was that God had WAY better things waiting for me when I was finally ready to let go of what “might have been”.
Love is better this time. He’s a better best friend than my ex was. He loves the FOUR (one more than you sistah!) children that came with me like they are his own and just for kicks, we added two more-two amazing beautiful people that I would never have had in my “before” life. We struggled like college kids (AGAIN!!!ACK) for a while, but now he makes more than my ex ever will. And he makes me LAUGH.
I’m sure your “old” house was in a beautiful neighborhood and was made of beautiful materials. But it wasn’t the amount of space you had that made it beautiful inside. It was what you and your talents and your gifts did to it. You are one of the most talented women I’ve ever seen!
The new house has linoleum? Cover it with hardwood, or tile, or homemade rugs or paint! You are the Queen of yard sales-the woman who sees the gemstones hidden behind the old Tupperware. Think of your new house as your next project-the next space and walls and floors that have been crying out for “TRACY’S TOUCH!”. Give yourself permission to make it your own. The yard sale you have will bring in needed funds while it simplifies your life, getting rid of our “stuff” makes room for new things. New memories. New adventures.
Your new house isn’t small, it’s snug…cozy…the walls are closer to you so it can hug you more effectively. The way I would if I was there.
Oh, and P.S.-if you get the urge to have a huge bonfire with….er….ya know….”his” stuff you come across along the way….go for it. It’s cathartic. It’s therapy. And it’s fabulous fun. *eg*
“It’s not cruel or malicious. It just is.”
It is that maturity and faith in the midst of your suffering that endears you to us and teaches us as we read your words. I should be the one uplifting you, but I leave a better person after reading your posts. Thank you!
I appreciate that you can share your raw, tender emotions.
Life just is…
May your new home be a tender mercy to you and your children.
I love that.
“It just is”
You’re such a lady.
I thought of you today during gospel doctrine. The teacher asked the question “Why do bad things happen to good people?” As the discussion progressed, he steered us to the understanding that just because something “hurts” or is painful or difficult doesn’t mean it’s bad (as in evil, wrong etc). I spoke to him after class and we decided to replace the well known question with a new statement “Sometimes hard things happen to God’s people”.
You are definitely God’s people hon, and hard is exactly what is right now.
I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but I have to tell you how inspiring your words are. What a difficult situation you are in and I am amazed at the grace and strength you show under the Refiner’s fire.
My prayers are with you.
Thank you for being such an inspiration.
Time rolls on… and so does sorrow, pain, and grief. Let the tears flow – and ebb – as the need demands. It just *is.*
You are an amazing writer, both in joyous times as well as times of sorrow. Thank you, Tracy, for sharing your talents and your journey.
Here’s hoping that dressing your “new, small home” will be like blessing a new baby!! I wish you joy and excitement and hope as you do so.
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