I woke up early to feed my baby girl and couldn't fall back to sleep. My house is in boxes. Again. I really thought we were done moving for awhile. I thought another move might kill me. But here we are. Moving. Figuring it out as we go. Sorting through the stress and mystery of what tomorrow might hold. Oddly enough, I am pretty excited. Pleased even. The funny thing is, this is our 3rd move in a year (and that's just in a year), and we are moving right back to the place we left a year ago! It would be easy to look back now and see where we went wrong, or what we could have done differently, and how we could have spared ourselves the stress and drama of moving house so much. But truthfully, so many life-saving (literally) things happened through these moves, that I can't feel regret.
I won't lie, I am craving stability like a soft warm bed after many sleepless nights. I want to know that in a year I will be in the same house, or even just the same city. I want to know that I'll have a chance to put down some roots, make some family traditions, have friends to grow close with, and a home that really feels like home. I want all that a lot. Like a lot, a lot. And don't get me wrong, I think stability can be good for the soul, healthy, and needed. But I am thankful for the change all the change in our life has brought. The healing, reconciliation, and trust it has developed.
It feels weird to say it, but all the chaos, stress, and change has brought a lot of clarity. Security. And peace. Not to say I didn't bite off all my nails and eat a pint of ice cream in one sitting this weekend in between packing boxes and binge watching Netflix. But hey, I didn't kill anyone, and I still have a full head of hair, so I'd say it was a pretty productive weekend!
On the road again. Hoping for some stability, while trusting God's grace is sufficient in my weakness.