Because my husband spends two to three hours a day driving to and from work, we’re selling our home of fifteen years to move closer to his office and many of our friends, family, and activities. We last moved when our youngest daughter was six weeks old, the year after my mother passed away. For multiple reasons, that period was a mix of joy and sorrow blurred by sleep deprivation and the exhaustion of caring for and moving a family of ten.
After months of painting everything in sight (that’s me), carrying away a million boxes to storage or Goodwill (that’s my husband), and searching houses on Zillow like it’s our job, we finally put a “Coming Soon” sign in the yard and started scheduling appointments to visit available homes in earnest.
I liked to imagine the other sellers, busily preparing our future home for us, just as we painted, cleaned, and polished ours for its new owners. The outcome was a mystery to us all but firmly in God’s control. He would know which house would become our home and the family that would live in ours.
Please join me today at (in)courage for the rest of the post!
Update: we sold our house yesterday but won’t close on our new one until either the day before Thanksgiving or the following Monday (yes, we still don’t know). I apologize for missing a November desktop calendar; the computer I use and the drives with my photos are in storage!
