It seems like forever since we moved and yet we're still eating on the card table and are surrounded by half-painted walls, floor samples, and boxes. Part of me doesn't really want to remember the misery of the move--packing and loading and cleaning nonstop until after 10pm consecutive nights in a row (with the kids and baby going crazy around us), a moving truck that never showed, movers who were 5 hours late, a changed delivery date of our possessions, etc. etc. But the other part of me never wants to forget the goodness of the people who surrounded us--friends who helped pack; neighbors who dropped off treats, returned library books, ran errands; and friends who came over to clean without a moment's notice--just sensing the desperation in my voice when they called to see how things were going (or were not going!). Endings and beginnings are hard, and while I'm excited for the future possibilities that this move brings us, I will be forever grateful for the people God allowed me to learn from and associate with in the spot of the universe where we lived the last 8 1/2 years.
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