If bare walls had a sound, if empty book shelves a voice, it'd be the sound of a deafening echo. If they had a name they'd be called 'house', not home. They would reek of cardboard and be smaller than they'd actually appear.
And that's where we are right now. We have cardboard boxes stacked higher than we stand, and as each day goes by more and more gets packed into them. And - to be honest - I just want to move forward a few months.
I want to move forward to a permanent living situation, being overly thankful for the temporary we have (I mean, it's all really temporary anyway), to a place where all boxes can be unpacked, where all walls can be painted the 'right' color, all toys put in a designated spot, and all children sleeping soundly in their room.
Speaking of children - they are sleeping currently, and for the first time since we've lived here - it doesn't feel like their room anymore. No - not even when we first moved in, then, it felt like Bryton's room. It was a place for him to live, move, breathe and become. This house has been a place for him to take his first step, speak his first word, shoot his first basket, first, first, first, first.
And me - well, I can be a little bit of a sentimentalist. I like the house - I don't love it - but I cherish the memories we have here.
And I look forward to more of those memories with Ansley and would love if it was in God's will for those to happen in 'our' house (though, it's not really 'ours' anyway).
And so - today shall be marked as the first echo in the house since the day we moved in... the day that our home became a house.
Tomorrow - Lord willing - a day away with friends for a birthday party of sorts. Much needed.
Oh - and pray for our snotty / coughy babies. Between a change of weather and harvest starting, well, they need to be better for this move. Especially since Bryton's 'unofficial' birthday party is Sunday. I want it to be a great experience for the grandparents who may not get many more 'birthday parties' with him (unless they are willing to travel)... yep, there's a tear. God sees it - and He knows.
Until next time -