Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Ten Years and Three Months {saying goodbye to home.}

This is a tough week.

Besides the mess of cardboard boxes piled up containing earthly treasures, our hearts scream of chaos as well.

This week and next we have to say goodbye to home.

Why is a place of residence always so hard to let go of?  Call me the attachment type cause I am pretty sure I bawled my eyes out when I left my freshman dorm.   What am I supposed to do with ten years and three months worth of memories?

When we first moved in, the year was 2003.  Eli was a whopping 5 weeks.  (Yes, Asher will be 5 weeks when we move!) The home was Eric's Grandmother's.  She had just moved into College Square but wasn't convinced she wanted to live there.  So, we moved into her home for a year.  After that year, she decided she loved it and we decided to purchase her home.  This home has only belonged to Stuarts.  Don't get me started...

To tell you the truth, I didn't love this home at first.  It offered more space and a huge backyard, but the kitchen counter tops were mauve pink, the bathrooms tiny and the closets pretty much invisible.

Over the years, we added our own touches.  My Dad graciously changed the pink counter tops to a neutral shade.  We purged toys and clothes each season in order to make the lack of storage space work.

Then something amazing happened.  I started praying for a heart of contentment to be here.  It was many years ago and I had so many friends with larger homes and nicer things.  I knew it was my heart that needed to change.  And God changed it.

He allowed me to fall in love with things.  The huge laundry room.  The bright and happy sunroom that also functions so well for a photography studio.  The bedrooms so close that I could be at the boys' sides in no time at all.  The outside that always has something in bloom.  Eric's Grandad did something beautiful out there...there is always color no matter the season.  God knew my heart needed that.

I can't tell you about all the memories, but here are a few that stick out.

Enclosing 5 week old Eli into the sunroom while I would paint the rest of the house.  I would run in to nurse him, get him back to sleep, then keep painting.

Seeing Eli and Cade in the backyard playing with Savannah as 3 and 5 year olds.  I was nursing Sam and watching them from a window.  Savannah was tied up and the cord quickly wrapped around Eli's neck in some random way.  That moment of knowing I couldn't get outside fast enough to save him.  That moment of knowing God intervened and spared our little guy.

The day Savannah ran away and Cade sat bawling as a 5 year old on the swings.  I got to teach him the value of prayer.  We prayed we would be able to find her that day.  A little bit of faith blossomed in him that moment.

There were the countless days of spending outside hitting baseballs and swimming in the kiddy pool.  Inside, we watched movies and ate popcorn and played wii and read adventures and chased each other around the rooms.  I taught the boys how to clean house here and wash the car here and bathe Savannah here.  Cade learned to make macaroni and cheese and chocolate chip cookies.

It was here that their love for sports and Jesus and church and school and others took root.

I think of Sam, content to play with colored pencils, as long as he could use them as swords.  I think of his little backpack full of his most precious toys, making an appearance at each of his brother's ballgames.  I think of us curled up on the big chair, reading Dumbo for the 349th time, and then later reading to baby Asher while he was still in the womb.

I won't ever forget the friends that have graced our doors with their beautiful personalities.  The ones that have brought us meals.  The ones that have helped us pack.  The ones that would stop by to share coffee, heartaches, joys, and Dove chocolate.  The ones that literally made my burdens easier.  The ones that were the hands and feet of Christ.

I won't forget the morning really close to Christmas that we had to tell all three that we were pregnant but that God had taken the baby home to Heaven.  Sam looked us dead in the eye and said, "YOU LOST MY BABY SISTER??" 

I remember the day that I hysterically fell to the kitchen floor and Eli wedged himself in between the front wooden and glass doors as I got the call that forever changed my life.  Kiley had died.  I numbly took myself to my closet and stared blankly.  What does one wear to her sister's funeral?

I think of our bedroom where Eric held my hand through the hard times and prayed over me when I couldn't breathe.  I think of the happy times and the rejoicing over the Lord before we went to sleep over all the things that brought us joy.

I think of sitting in my big chair, surrounded by countless versions of the Bible and various commentaries.  God met me there.

A lot of life has been lived here.

I will never forget seeing the lines turn pink on the pregnancy test...God ushering in new life.  I fell to the ground and worshiped.  We see Asher today and praise Him for not just taking away, but for giving as well.

It has been a decade of knowing Him more purely.  This house just gave us the comfort and safety to do so.


Anonymous said...

Precious post, Becke'. I'm praying for you. Love you.
Please holler if you need help with the kiddos or anything else.

Anonymous said...

Beautiful words! Praying as your move and begin to make more memories in your new home!

Kelli said...

I think it's sweet that you got to bring Asher home to that house before oping. I know that wasn't ideal,nut it's kind of a blessing in itself to close out your time in that house with one more baby boy. Now they can all say they lived there. :) Hugs to you. Moving stinks whether its five miles or five hundred...