I was excited to begin what I thought was going to be our tiny house season.
We packed our family up and moved across the country in the hopes of a better life. Sometimes muddled dreams twist my hopes and convince me that better must be bigger.
In the process of getting ready to someday drive across the country to a new life we began to peel back and get rid of layers of stuff.
- Books we’ve already read, goodbye.
- Book we’ll never read, go–be enjoyed by someone else.
- Old clothes, now gone.
- New clothes can be worn by someone else.
- Papers in the trash.
- Old magazines recycled.
- Decor from another era, adios.
So. Many. Things.
Things rob our energy, time and attention and drain the life out of things that matter…creativity, relationships, memories with people we love.
I let go of cosmetics I purchased when I lived in our first and only apartment.
I prayed for forgiveness for the layers of distractions that weighted down my days…each tiny level seemingly harmless. But day after day, thing piled upon thing, waste after waste morphed into a soggy, grey cloud of depression.
It wasn’t a pit, but a weight keeping me from color and vitality and passion.
Through dozens of loads to the thrift store, truck beds full taken to the dump, we freed space in our thoughts and home to search for the best version of us.
This family is my greatest treasure from the Lord.
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Here we were. One month living in another state, waiting for paperwork so we could move into a one thousand square foot house. Our tiny house. I envisioned leaning in to family time, forced by proximity, with our new little puppy scampering on the rental worthy tile.
It was going to be perfect for this small season.
But it fell through…for reasons that are lame and didn’t need to happen. We tell ourselves this is still a part of His plan for us. This family.
We are shifting into a possible medium season–Lord and potential land lord willing–of a slightly larger house. There is a room to home school, a large yard for a puppy to roam and a patch for a vegetable garden. We can walk to the library. There is a Rib Master restaurant around the corner, just a family bike ride away. Greasy fingers and easy meals together over tables in the Texas heat sound like progress.
I believed I was moving to find a house to buy, but am now praying for a house to rent. Life is wild and funny.
These days are numbered. College is coming for one child; the achieving of milestones calling for another. The third, who is actually the first, is always on our minds and the financial ability to visit more is a vital hope for this new life. In His time our house in California will sell. Someday we will buy a new home here. In the meantime, we are praying to do life more simply.