Down they go!

First meal: artisan toast with
cranberry goat cheese and
pickled herring. (Yes, we're
eating our way through the pantry.)

How did you feel the last time you moved? Was it hard - or a relief - to go through the things that had to be left behind? Was moving away a mind trip? Did you love your arrival and the new place?

Our kids and 2-year-old granddaughter moved in with us a month and a half ago. When we negotiated living together, everyone promised not to push me into an unfinished space: I've done it twice before and it's unsettling (to say the least). So while Timo and W left for work each day, M and I have been doing cooking and doing chores around the boxes (theirs and ours) in the hallways and rooms.

The whole project started in April, after we felt called to move to Indonesia next year. We had an unfinished basement space, impossibly heaped with shelves, boxes, a commercial pool table, and years of unexamined storage. Our kids' lease was expiring in the fall; we'd need a place to stay on furloughs. After confirmation of our appointment, I sold our dining table, movers shifted the pool table into what used to be our dining room, and the project got underway.

A first look at our living room / bedroom

I planned the space while W cleared and sorted and removed. Placing the walls and plumbing on a sketch, I could almost imagine the future. There were a few bumps and re-negotiations along the way, shifts in thinking when building reality leaned against my drawings.

Slowly but surely, a home emerged. W and our son scrubbed 20 years of living off the concrete floors and painted them white. Friends helped plumb, drywall, and paint walls and ceilings the same white color. Our friend Terry wired the basement, asking, "Won't the living room be too bright with six sconces @ two bulbs each?"

I can safely say, "Nope. Just right." I'm not a friend of darkness by day.

Another side of the room

The guys dragged down our bigger furniture, while I made dozens of trips daily between the upper floor and the basement, boxes in hand. There's barely been time to wipe down the emptying spaces. Our daughter-in-law, highly pregnant, is nesting for the baby's arrival next month. She's on my heels with a washrag and vacuum. "I have a thing for deep-cleaning when I move in or out," she says. If we would have moved the normal way, I would have done that for her. Oh well, another casualty of good intentions.

Strangers have come and gone, hauling away our past life. Furniture, rugs, cookware, and decor found new homes through Craigslist and Freecycle, funding our build-out below. Reef tanks, dogs, and "future replacements" for the house ... gone. My brother purchased our friend's grand piano from the living room. Gradually we've emptied the kitchen, bathrooms, and my office.

And a comfy chair behind the
zebra hide footstool.

Monday, I packed the last of our daughter Kirsten's things into our SUV, meeting the mover who was dead-heading a run to Austin, where she lives. We'd loaned K's piano to a family in the next suburb: the mover  pushed the piano up the ramp, loaded her treasures and my Bernina sewing machine into his truck, and pulled away.

We spent our first night downstairs yesterday. The mattress is comfy and we woke when we were rested: there are no windows to tell us when the sun comes up. Before work, W sorts info on his computer, a few feet away from where I type.

Today, it seems farther up two flights of stairs to our bedroom to empty our bedroom closet than it was coming down from upstairs. But that baby and our relocation to Indonesia is waiting for no one. Off we go.

Read more:
*I have ventured to speak to the Lord, although I am but dust and ashes. Genesis 18:27 NASB

*Christ says, "Everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened." Luke 11:10 NEV

*Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. Galatians 6:2 NIV

*Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. James 1:2-6 NIV

Moravian Prayer: Loving Father, although we were born from dust and ashes, may we ask for blessings when we are in need. When we seek you Lord, let us find you there. Reassure us that you will answer. Amen.

*(CS Lewis, to Mary Willis Shelburne, June 5, 1961: On being overconcerned about the past of others and of our own.) We must beware of the Past, mustn’t we? I mean that any fixing of the mind on old evils beyond what is absolutely necessary for repenting our own sins and forgiving those of others is certainly useless and usually bad for us. Notice in Dante that the lost souls are entirely concerned with their past. Not so the saved. This is one of the dangers of being, like you and me, old. There’s so much past, now, isn’t there? And so little else. But we must try very hard not to keep on endlessly chewing the cud. We must look forward more eagerly to sloughing that old skin off forever—metaphors getting a bit mixed here, but you know what I mean.

Strange, wonderful aloneness

The last of our four children moved out yesterday. Our youngest son, who graduated university in December, packed up his room to live with two good friends.

Of course, the relocation wasn't without hiccups! The first two guys loaded their stuff into the UHaul and went to move it into the apartment. Then they learned they couldn't move in until the next day. So I came home to a UHaul parked at the top of the street - and three husky guys sitting on our LR sofa.

"Hi! I know Bob," I smiled at one of Jono's good friends. "But who are you guys?"

The two roommates introduced themselves. "We are essentially homeless until tomorrow, so Jono said we could sleep over. He's sleeping off his night shift in the guest room while we wait around." Of course, Jono's room had been disassembled. His bed and furniture, while not yet loaded into the truck, were packed up for a quick getaway.

I can't tell you the deep laughter inside this mother's heart. Oh, the resilience and flexibility of youth! We had a nice visit. Great guys. They made themselves coffee on W's espresso machine. (My coffee can be toxic since I'm not a coffee drinker.) I enjoyed my cup of tea.

Then I pointed to the sofa/futons, asked them to use sheets over the slipcovers, and bid them a fine stay before my husband and I headed out the door to an overnight event.

We came home last night to an empty house. The old bedroom is still chaotic. There are papers, a few bags of garbage, and some unsorted boxes left after their whirlwind of leaving. Hopefully Jono will clear it out this week. ("Ha ha, you optimist," I can hear my friends chortling.)

There's a strange wonder to this new season of parents-without-children as we become honeymooners. We're without kids for the first time in 32 years! Lots of people have come and gone at our house. More recently, Jono often had college friends sleep over.

I can tell I'm going to love the new privacy, of not running into young men headed up the stairs to the main bathroom's shower. We can wander into the kitchen in PJs and not find some stranger frying bacon or scrambling eggs at the stove. The sink and bathrooms will stay as clean as we make them. How cool is that!

My new mantra: "Empty nest is not a syndrome. It's a vacation!" Luckily our almost-2-year-old granddaughter disassembles the house one day a week, so I have toys and measuring cups to retrieve and replace in their cupboards.

I bet God loves the seasons of His children's maturity. He holds us when we're youngsters, disciplines us as spiritual "teens," and assigns us difficult and rigorous work as mature believers.

How did you feel, moving out of your childhood home? How about when your kids left?

Do you appreciate the seasons of spiritual maturity as God sees you through life?

Read more:
*In God's hand is the life of every living thing. Job 12:10 NLT

*My child, listen to me and do as I say, and you will have a long, good life. I will teach you wisdom's ways and lead you in straight paths. When you walk, you won't be held back; when you run, you won't stumble. Take hold of my instructions; don't let them go. Guard them, for they are the key to life. Proverbs 4:10–13 NLT

*The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. Isaiah 58:11 NIV

*God is not far from each one of us. For “In him we live and move and have our being.” Acts 17:27-28 NLT

Moravian Prayer: Tending God, you give life and then you draw near to your creation. When we face difficulties, remind us that you are holding us all in your powerful hand and are by our side through it all. Amen. 

How did you feel when you left home? When your kids moved out?