Over the past week my house has slowly emptied out.
Each day, a couple more pieces of my life went out the door. Some in boxes in the garage, most out the door and into another family's memories.
It's been a slow transition from a home back to a house. And like Andrew reminded me yesterday, it's a blessing that it's happening this way.
I've never been good at Rip The Bandaid and Get It Over With when it comes to change.
I need time to process and mourn. Pay my respects to each material item and the memories it carries with it. Andrew is quick to remind me of the time he surprised me with a night away for Valentines Day and I decided not to go. Too much to process in a two hour time span. (please note: I now see the psychosis in this and am still kicking myself for not going.)
So while this whole process of having to deal with the loss everyday has been back breaking and sad, I'm seeing the grace covering it.
The other day the playground and patio table left within a 24 hour period of each other.
I stood at the sink and stared at the unfamiliar view and it struck me that this house was every one's house. A place where people gathered and were instant friends. People helped themselves to our kitchen, their children made themselves at home. Our doors were always open.
The table that used to sit there hosted countless parties, witnessed deeply personal conversations, some of our greatest fights.
We built that swingset when Josie was three and even though it took seven days and slightly resembled a death trap, I loved it. I watched my kids make friends out there. Sometimes with other people, sometimes with themselves. They learned to pump their legs out there. When I think of what embodies their time here, that swingset is a big part of it.
And now it's gone.
Another family is going to make memories on it and I love that.
I love that someone is using our washer and drier and our couches and our dining room table. That one of my best friends little girls is sleeping on Josie's bed and so many of our decorations are now hanging in loved ones homes.
I'll get to make my new home soon.
And we will get to fill it with new memories and laughter and hospitality.
But tonight I'm thankful for slow transitions and the grace that covers us in the moments that are hard.