By the time we moved at the end of 2020, I was physically and mentally exhausted. I’d painted three bathrooms, three bedrooms, the kitchen cabinets, and all the baseboards as we prepared to sell our home. Not only did our home hold a decade and a half of memories, it housed all the stuff we’d accumulated over fiftteen years and everything our older children left behind when they transitioned to adult life. I still can’t believe we finally emptied the unfinished basement and cleaned out the garage.
Although I was excited to be in our new house and neighborhood, and the winter months gave me a good excuse to stay home and settle in, it was slow going. The unpacking and organizing moved along at a snail’s pace; the preceding months had burned me out soul-deep.
Because I tend to be goal-driven, this breathing room honestly made me uncomfortable. Shouldn’t I be doing something important or tackling a big project? But all along, I felt the Lord offering a period of rest that I needed to accept.
Little did I know how that period of rest and space to breathe would prepare me for what was next.
Please join me at (in)courage for the rest of the article!
