This has been a good house– a really, really good house.
Even though it was never ours, even though our hearts always knew it was on loan, we have loved the beautiful moments lived here.
Simon’s second yo-yo (read: birthday), and then his third.
Jude’s birth and homecoming.
Jack’s first viewing of Star Wars, Episode III.
Mary Hannah’s acceptance to the college she had long dreamed of attending.
Birdie’s first violin lesson.
John Mark mastering the art of riding a bike without training wheels.
Mathaus earning his driving permit.
Phineas writing his own name.
Life has been lived here. We have grown and ached and rejoiced and wept. We have cheered milestones and mourned anniversaries. These walls have been strong enough to hold it all.
I am grateful.
I am grateful for a space where we regrouped, where we healed, and where we found, again, that blend of faith and vision and obedience that keeps us always reaching out with open hands, asking God, “What next?”
Today, we drive away from the house that sheltered us in one of the stormiest seasons of life I can imagine. It will be hard to see it in the rear view mirror because, unlike the people this time bound our hearts to, our lives will not remain entangled in this address. In the years to come, we will mention “the Trace Creek” house, or, “our place in Waxhaw,” and it will conjure locked-in-time memories of Cassiel cavorting in the creek or Jude taking his first steps across the kitchen. It will all be then. Past tense. What was.
A new family will step over the threshold Friday, and begin the work of claiming their part of this home’s history. I pray they love it as much as we did. I pray this house always holds blessing for those who enter its doors. And I pray that our next home will hold as many miraculous scenes as this one did.