I shouldn’t write about this. Because the conclusion of this story isn’t here yet. It might be a month away. Or it might be five or more years away. But I’m living in the apex and it feels too big to cork it. Too risky to put these dreams out there. But if feels like a lie to keep them all in.
I think about tiny feet coming through a big door, into a little odd shaped room with a line of hooks low enough for spindly little arms to reach and hang their too big coats.
Our family is one giant upheaval right now. Charlie started a new job this past week. That means that since June he has left a job, started a new job, left that job, and started back up at the old job. Change like that throws us for a big significant, overwhelming loop.
I see hardwoods that shine and are oiled by little slippered feet that twirl, twirl, twirl. “At least 18 times in a room so big!” and the grin seems just as wide as my heart can spread in this room to breath.
We made the choices prayerfully, carefully, and with council and so many late night conversations. But we both are still trying to find our feet in this ever changing ‘normal’.
The black wood stove burns hot. The soft rugs invite. And fingers can intertwine and eyes and linger and lips kiss. And little snores can be heard in the next room. And the fire can burn brighter still.
And then, a couple of weeks ago, the perfect house, through a really amazing affordable housing program, came on the market. And this is the piece I should wait to share. I should wait till I have either a bow to tie it up; announce our first home. Or till I can write another post. One not distracted with dreams of a laundry room and space for my girls to spin.
I imagine hearing the steady beat; whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Behind a closed door. A room that can warm and vibrate and clean our endless linens.
But I’m here. In the eye of a tornado. Change all around us, dust no where near settled, suffocating in paperwork and numbers and qualifiers, and prayers, and ‘are we this grown up?’.
Their room. Their thick moulding, high ceilings, space to Jump! and read and color and stretch, and mostly; Grow.
So what are we doing? We are celebrating all the small wins. We are finding normal and stability in our weird and wild girls. We are potty learning ( I know, what? Ever is crazy little but wants to do it!) and cookie baking. We are focusing deep on love. On eye contact and kissing, on time alone, and home cooked meals. On comfort food, and good uplifting articles on parenting I aspire to. We are reading books in the free minutes, drinking cider like mad, and checking our emails incessantly to see if we have heard any news about the next steps with this home.We are anchoring in the things that are unconditional. In His word. Each others arms. And two big eyed spunksies with toothy grins.
Bedside tables, my beautiful bed, built by my beautiful husband. Space for the trunk at the end of the bed, overfilled with blankets to cover the four bodies that cuddle in tightly.
That prayer and feeling God gave me last December, it has been nothing but dead on for the year. And still, to the very end, I’m Holding Tight.
I’m home, dreaming.