moving again

My babies are all sleeping. I have forty things to do and half an hour to do them in.

We're moving this week. Priscilla and Abraham are excited. Most of the time, I am too. I know that all of the books and toys and housewares and clothes will somehow get packed eventually and will somehow be found again eventually. And our routine, too, will survive somehow and I will find it again in another month or two when we are settled in somewhere.

We are planning to move to Spokane this fall so that Keith can begin the prerequisites for a sonography degree. We've been planning this for a year and as nothing else has yet appeared to persuade us otherwise, we're going forward with the plan. Somewhat nervously, though, because now as always we take ourselves a bit too seriously and are a bit too idealistic sometimes and thus are never quite sure what to do except when God tells us with lighting bolts of clarity.

So for now, we are moving in with Keith's parents. The door has closed on being able to live in this house any longer, and that's okay, we were planning to move in August anyway and so we are kinda taking this as a sign. And we have peace about moving in with his parents and packing up our life here into a whole lotta boxes while we work on buying a place in Spokane.

But I'm sad to leave this home. Really sad.

We've moved a lot in our marriage (fourteen times, folks... fourteen times!) but it's not really because we love moving. Or even like it. Now more than ever I know how very much I want to buy one big beautiful house with a little farm and just settle down there with my love and our babies and never ever move again.

There's nothing really remarkable about this house that we are in now. It's a modular home with glaring white walls and a dingy carpet. But the layout is perfect for us and all the neat little features like low windows are so perfect for our toddlers and oh, there has been so much love in this house. We have lived here for almost two and a half years, more than twice as long as we've ever lived anywhere. I will miss it so much. The stillness, the clean mountain air which smells like camomile in late July, the pure cool water straight from the heart of the mountain, the heavy star-laden night sky, the astounding array of waterfowl on the river road.

And I know we will miss our life here. Will there be potholes in the road by our next house? So that our kids can splash in them for half the year in their puddle-stomping boots? Will our children be able to be in the same Sunday school class in our next church? These are the small things, of course, but they are also really, really big things and the missingness of everything is choking me up already. And we will miss our friends, will miss the sense of belonging in this community, will miss being able to have my little brothers or my dad come visit so easily. The kids will miss their best friends and we will miss ours too.

It's hard to let go of this place. This home. It has been our home more than any other home, I think, except maybe our trailer in Three Hills. We moved here when I was eight months pregnant with Abraham. It's the only home Rilla remembers and the only home that Abraham and Ezekiel have ever known. I gave birth to our boys in this house, and that might be the hardest part of all to let go. I've grown as a mama here... here, away from any town and often away from any friends for a week or two or three at a time, I have grown in confidence, refined my goals for motherhood, grown up so much.

Keith has gently reminded me that we are taking our family with us. We may have made many memories with our children here, but we are taking them with us, memories and children both.

There are exciting things about moving on. Spokane has many things to offer and I'm eager to begin to do more cultural things with our children. Ballet for Rilla! Jazz concerts with Keith! Splash parks! Rose gardens! And so on. And because moving and adventure has been so much a part of our marriage, it is exciting to begin our adventure as a family now. Good for our children, too, to know that our home is determined by being together, not by the place in which we live.

But I don't think I was ready for this any sooner. I have been so reclusive since becoming a mama! I desperately needed a cozy, hidden incubation time in the first years of motherhood so that I could put all of my heart and strength into learning how to be the mama I want to be. There was so much to overcome. And yet I've gradually realized in these last few months, much to my surprise, that I know who I am now. I know who I am as a mama and I don't feel scared anymore about what anyone may think of me. And now my motherhood habits are set, and I have been practicing long enough that I feel like I know what I am doing now, and I am actually excited about moving onward and outward, and I feel like I can begin to handle this new adventure.