(Ann Voskamp, this morning. Thank you!).
Fresh words, feeding words for a tired body and soul. More than anything else this, this is what I needed to do this morning. More than a visit to the gym (which is not a bad idea!), more than downing that extra cup of coffee (also, not necessarily a bad idea!), I needed to slow down...relax...breathe in the blessings that are today.
The boxes are mostly packed...mostly. Where clothes used to sit in drawers, they are now empty. Where toys used to sit on shelves, they are no longer. Where medicine used to wait to heal, it is an bare cupboard. Where hockey equipment used to gather, there is an open space. Where boys' beds use to sit, waiting for sweet heads to fall asleep from the joys and burdens of the day, those beds now lie stacked in pieces against walls. The same walls where pictures used to hang, telling of family and love and life and reminders of blessings and loved ones here and gone and gone around the world. Walls that are now blank except for tiny holes left from hooks, reminders of where memories once hung.
Walls that, if they could speak, would tell many secrets of laughter and tears and struggles and victories.
Walls that have been our house - our home - for many years. Walls that saw children born, fevers broken, lessons learned, bodies healed, championships won, friends made, meals enjoyed, pets loved, tears wiped, hearts comforted, laughter heard, prayers answered, patience groomed. Walls that will forever be woven into the fabric of our family. I am reminded of a song that Amy Grant recorded a number of years ago (and I remember it with fondness because it was the one song that I (thought I) could play on the piano and sing to at the same time...my apologies to my family for that!!). The lyrics talk about all that walls are witness to and they speak to us a great reminder of all that a family home is. If These Wall Could Speak...
If these old walls
If these old walls could speak
Of things that they remembered wellStories and faces dearly held
A couple in love
Livin' week to week
Rooms full of laughter
If these walls could speak
If these halls
If hallowed halls could talk
These would have a tale to tell
Of sun going down and dinner bell
Of children playing at hide and seek
From floor to rafter
If these halls could speak
See, as I write this, my family is preparing for a major transition. In four short days our lives will all change. My pastor husband of almost 19 years has been called to leave the place our family has called home for 18 years, to begin a new ministry, in a new church, in a new city. Among the multitude of changes that will occur, we have also had to purchase a new house. A new set of walls. A new framework for family life, love and ministry. A new place to make memories in. We have purchased a new home.
As poignant as that is, I need to remind my heart that these walls, these houses, our home (old and new)...it is but a temporary home for us. Sure it is meaningful, it is well loved, it is a piece of what shapes us into who we are because it is the place where lives, big and small, are formed and made and have grown up. But they are just walls. Walls made of plaster and wood and nails and painted and repainted to our liking. Our real home, our permanent forever home, is being prepared for us, is waiting for us and it has been built by One who loves us more than we can imagine, One who calls us his child, One who calls us...home.
And, oh, if only those walls could speak.
