Part 3

And so, the packing began! I don't remember even putting things in boxes. There were little hearts to attend to, friends to give hugs to and the closing of a chapter that I wasn't ready to close. I had to stare longer at the hills that I once thought needed more green trees on them, I had to drive past the parks that my kids shared much joy and friendship riding there bikes at, I walked down the street to Kristen's and wondered how you bottle up the sweetness of walking to your dear friends house with such ease, I drove by the the hospital that the kids were born in a number of times and just stared at the building that at 3 significant times for the birth of my 3 babies represented so many emotions of fear, gratitude, sweetness, pain and joy, I told my favorite grocery store clerk that I was moving and got teary with her (even though she thought I was a nut). Strangely, I just wanted to say good bye and say it well. This place represented the heartache and loss of a buisness and home, the brokeness of a church body, the tears of a tired mom lonely new mom, the wanderings of a couple through the journey of marriage, as well as the beauty of learning so much richness in life, living simply, redemptive relationships, the overflowing of friendships, the beautiful golden hills, and the joy of roots with friendships, families, lots of families especially the ones that loved my children as their own and knew their corks but loved them anyway. The leaving and preparing for something new reminded me of how little I gave thanks for all that I had. Perhaps, a move was needed for various reasons. One was already so clear, I often didn't thank the Lord for my gifts and that is tragic. The giver of all life who deserves all praise and glory was not given what was due to Him and saying goodbye made me see this so clearly.

I'll never forget the evening we gathered at the park. I remember looking around at all the beautiful people around me. People who had cared for our family over the years. There were friendships that had represented pain but were now restored, friendships that had represented care and compassion, friendships that shared honest truths that even though painful were seasoned with love, so much richness oozed from this group of people. I was overwhelmed that we were loved by these people.

As we laughed and cried, I was aware that heaven must be just a small measure of this goodness. Tears began to flow as the goodbyes and hugs were passed around. It was dark, Jamie and Kristen were the only ones left with their families. The Ray girls were sobbing so loud and Kristen and I were convincing them that we would see each other soon but knowing full well that tomorrow we would wake up and not text each other to pick up the girls to play, knowing full well that I wouldn't be running an egg over for cookies, or we wouldn't be going for a walk to the donut shop with our clan of kids. It was sad. I was so very keenly aware that saying goodbye to people you live your day to day with everyday is hard, stings the heart hard, takes your breath away hard. Who would take my kids when I was sick? Who would bring fresh baked goodies over or extend laughter over the mornings mishaps?

I wish I could say that the next morning I arose and greeted this new adventure with excitement, support toward my husband and faith in God. I did not. Instead, I fought back every ounce of my being to talk kindly to my husband. The hard, angry heart was settling in and making itself at home. The drive was aweful! I cried, it was hot and I texted Tim the whole way how much I hated the fact that we had to move.

What in the world was God up to? Oh boy! I had no idea what was in store. I thought the desert drive was hot..... Well, the story gets more uncomfortable and unexplainable that I could have imagined.