June 1, 2015 § Leave a comment
We are moving home very very soon. The decision was not ours, but all the same it was not an unwelcome one.
Or so I thought.
I have written before about my issues with our home. This house, that enabled us to move out from my mother’s tiny space, and into our own as a family. And in recent years, a home that has been integral for a business I have run, where the ‘home’ part became part of the appeal of the workshops and playgroup I ran.
Now that I am looking for a new home, I have renewed appreciation for all that we have had these past four years in this home. A great sized backyard where the children can play for hours (and do), with space for a swingset, a sandpit and one massive trampoline. Close to a great park, and close to both Sol and my mothers, who are such a part of our lives. Who knew it would be so hard to find a house with a double garage and a decent size backyard and some trees (or at least a view of them!)?
As the days all too quickly run towards our deadline for moving, I have to admit we still do not have a home to move into. We have been in this situation before, one where we made the leap into an unknown and adventure filled future, both exhilarating and terrifying. That kind of leap is not going to happen this time. Four of our five children are very settled at school and in their lives, and as much as I sometimes dream of that alternative life we lived for a time, I know it is not my path right now. Maybe one day, when we can make that choice from a place of abundance rather than desperation.
As I look at house after house for us to begin the next phase of our life in, I have too often felt some anxiety creep in, making choices harder. We have our family list of what we want, and we look at houses that tick all our boxes, except they don’t: they don’t inspire us, or feel like ‘home’. As I write now, I look out the window and see tall gum trees swaying in the winter wind. How will I be inspired write in the future if the view is just a fence?
I don’t think it is folly to wish for a home that uplifts and inspires us. But it feels almost impossible to find that in suburbia, and for various reasons we are not quite ready to move out to a rural location. Maybe it is our family and our life and our living that will make a house a home. Maybe I just over-think this whole thing! We have moved more than eleven times in fifteen years, but somehow each time it feels harder, like there is more at stake, and a greater fear of mistakes.
In the meantime, each day, I pack two or three boxes, dismantle beds, and act as though we are moving in two weeks. Not having a new home to go to yet makes it all seem rather unreal, and I feel somewhat ungrounded. I wonder whether I really am happy to move right now. I thought I was excited to move to a new area and to have the chance to build some new rhythms in a new home, but the more I look around, the more I can’t help but feel that what we have here in our too-small, somewhat cluttered house on the corner is perfect.
Every night I send out a prayer to help our family find the best new home for us.Time to find a new perfect.