Ah, the spring time. New life. Resurrection–especially the One we will celebrate this Sunday. A new season. Changes. Growth.
Last night, as I packed our kitchen while I cooked, it hit me. It’s here. The move we have been talking about, waiting on, and praying about is upon us. I cooked in my kitchen for the last time last night. All that’s left is snacks and paper plates. A friend is scheduled to come help Mr. Gray load the big things up Saturday morning. It’s really here. Our bare walls, empty rooms, boxes, and piles are all that remains in separating this cute little green house from home. The mailbox declares this place as vacant, and soon enough, it will be.
It’s only a house, the memories and the people make it home. Soon we’ll break ground on our new home, in the land God has called us to–just like he called Abram. We’ll make new memories, new traditions, new friends.
As this limbo stage begins to come to a close, though, I think of all the things that will never be the same. I don’t think of them in a sad way; I think of it as more of a growing pain. It’ll hurt for a bit, but then we’ll all be bigger, better, and further-reaching because of where we started. I know with total certainty that God called us to this home, this place, this church to equip us for where we are going–even if I don’t know where that is. He does. We just have to go. He’ll tell us where, turn by turn. We’ll arrive in exactly His time for His purpose.
A little over a year ago, on the same day, I wrote this and my friend Laura wrote this. My heart still echoes in each of those pieces. I knew when I wrote about our move I was making it real–our house had been on the market two months, and I was just finally ready to step into it. I also knew that the time to leave Revolution would come, and Laura’s words could be my own:
“That many years ago, I walked into this tiny building with about 30 people and knew God would use me there. But I had no idea how much I would grow right along side it.
Both spiritually and physically I have grown up there.
It was bittersweet to leave knowing that it wouldn’t be the same to come back again.”
Replace tiny building with stinky gym, and you’ve got our story.
As I laid in bed last night with tears streaming down my face, I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. I couldn’t quite pinpoint it. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t happy. I was just overwhelmed with emotion. It was truly as though I just had so much in me that I needed to let out. It wasn’t an ugly cry or a big, loud sobfest. I just felt so full of so many things: awe, wonder, amazement, relief, I don’t even know what all it was. Just a culmination. My tears were like a fresh spring rain washing things clean for a new start.
