I hate moving. The packing, transporting, unpacking, etc. I guess I’ve done so much of it in my lifetime that it’s not that exciting to me anymore (unless it were to someplace like Hawaii or Tahiti…ha!). And yet…it’s that time again, and this time I AM excited. We’re only moving 3 miles away, but it’s to our own place…one that Joel and I will create together…share together…a place of new beginnings.
As with any move, I have the opportunity to sort through things…drawers and closets crammed full of memories (and quite a bit of junk too). It allows me to throw out those things that I truly don’t need to hang onto anymore. Or perhaps there are items that would be better suited in someone else’s home that I can just give away. Maybe…some of it I’m supposed to sell to allow the proceeds to go to our adoption fund. Regardless, it’s “clean out” time.
If you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, you also know that I’m living in the same home that I shared with my previous husband, Chris, who now lives in Heaven. This was the same house where we created many happy memories, but it’s also the same house where I received news of my worst nightmare…my husband’s death by suicide. I can walk into each room of the house and see the events of those horrific days play out all over again. I can visualize the faces of friends that were in and out while we were still “searching” for my husband. I can see pain on the faces of those that arrived to tell me when Chris had been found…not alive. I remember sitting on the couch with the law enforcement and forest service officials while helping them to “complete their paperwork” to bring the “missing person” case to a close. Oh, how I remember…
In the earliest days of widowhood, I scoured my room looking for a note…something…anything that would give me clues why Chris chose to leave me this way. I tore through drawers, closets, vehicles…everything! I never found the note. But, even while searching, I began to sort…sort through his things and place them into “piles” – keep, donate, or share with his family. I thought I’d finished that sorting task long ago. Until the other day…
I was cleaning out my nightstand, and there it was…a chocolate rose I received one Valentine’s Day, a group of cards or letters he had given me, his driver’s license (the one found at his death location), and a few other things I didn’t realize were there. Un-dealt with, I had to “go there” again. The memories…the pictures from those dreadful days…all came rushing back. It was so frustrating to me. God has blessed me so much, and life has been restored in ways I never dreamed it could be, so why did I have to “return” to that time? And then He spoke…it was almost as if Abba was right there in the room with me, reassuring me of His love for me and His abundant grace and mercy…
My precious daughter, aren’t you glad that I don’t ask you to revisit the memories of your sin like this? Aren’t you thankful that you can rest in My promise that I’ve removed your sins as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12)? While there are times I may ask you to go back and remember different times in your life…it’s not to hurt you or make you sad, all over again. That’s not My nature. It’s to show you how far I’ve brought you…how Healed you are, and how vast My love is for you! I will never leave you or forsake you (Deuteronomy 31:6). I love you my daughter. ~Abba
Yes Lord! You are so good to me!
