Breaking up with the Castle

Update: I wrote this Friday as I was packing and cleaning. Today we arrived in St Louis, and we spend the day here tomorrow. Then Wednesday it is on to Denver!



It's been a crazy three weeks. Cray-zy. With a capital, bolded C. Sorting, packing, selling, giving away, grabbing coffee with a friend, and another, and another. More selling. An epic moving sale. Lunch with our pastor. Dropping my kids off somewhere almost every day for at least a few hours of baby/toddler-free productivity. I miss my kids. My house is in controlled chaos, and so empty it's starting to echo. We're one day out from our next adventure.



When we told people we were moving, one of the first questions everyone asked was "what about the Castle?" People know how much we've loved and used this house, and made it ours. I would have sold the castle if we needed to, but thankfully we didn't need to. Sweet friends of ours will be renting from us - a match so perfect it couldn't have come from anywhere but God. They have a little boy and a little girl and were looking for more space and a place to be outside. They're excited to live in a big house, and we're excited that the castle will be filled with another sweet family.



Breaking up is hard to do though. I've barely (surprisingly) struggled with letting go of all the stuff that filled our attic, closets, dressers and basement. I've enjoyed making money from the sale, finding new homes for things, and thinking about our fresh start. But when we got to the point where we are undoing the things I've done to make this castle home,  well that's been hard. The paintings and pictures are coming off the walls. The projects are getting stored away or given away. The gallery wall is coming down. We're even leaving a lot for our renters, but it's still hard. It's hard to undo all that work, and love, you know?



Today I'm touching up paint, filling holes and scrubbing bathrooms. I'm polishing the mantel and the woodwork for the last time. I'm wiping tiny hand prints off windows and doors. And it's therapeutic in a way. I'm saying goodbye to my house, the place we've rescued from the ugly, brought our babies home to, filled with laughter and love and people. We always said if we owned a home we would use it for God, by hosting people, loving people and welcoming them in. I think we have done our very best to accomplish that goal. I'm excited for the next adventure, but I'm taking today to say farewell to my house.