Eyes on the prize

You know what makes my heart happy?

To look out my kitchen window and see this:

I often take laundry to hang out at the new house when we're working there all day since I don't have the luxury (or a normally functioning dryer...) here at the house-sitting house.  And when I look up from peeling wallpaper or sanding spackle or (finally!) rolling on paint, to see the laundry billowing in the breeze (and my family picnicking on the porch), I get such a sense of joy welling up inside of me, and a gratitude that so very soon the simple pleasures of life in this charming little house will be mine everyday. 

Despite having known since February that this will be our house, my heart is still catching up to my brain, and I've been increasingly finding myself sobbing tears of joy (totally unhelpful when I'm trying to paint something) at the realization that we're actually going to live at the new house, that we actually will have our dishes in the cupboards and clothes in the closets, and at the end of the day we don't have to turn out the lights and drive away.  

There's a palpable longing from all four of us to just be home.  

I don't want to sound ungrateful for the blessing it has been to house sit this year.  It was a wonderful situation for us having moved to a new area, and in retrospect, I'd still chose this again - but more in the way that you chose going to the dentist than you chose spending time with friends.  I've learned a lot and grown a lot, but I'll be completely honest and say that I'm very glad it's almost over.

There have been a lot of little (first world!) annoyances, like the aforementioned dryer that needs three cycles to dry anything, and the size of the house that makes it impossible to find anything the toddler has touched, and the dog hair.  Oh, the dog hair.  It's an amazing house (and dog), really, and perfect for the family who lives here normally.  We're just not that family, and learning our own wants and needs in our living space has been very instructive.  

Most of all, the challenge of this year has been feeling perpetually in transition.  I looked back in my blog archives tonight and realized that one year ago, I had already put a significant portion of my belongings in boxes (many of which are still in box purgatory in the basement).  It's weary-ing to think that we have a long month of renovations to juggle, another packing of the truck, another unloading of the truck.  And - *duh* moment - I realized today that nothing will magically get into drawers or closets once we arrive.

These days have been physically and emotionally and mentally tiring - I've been doing more physical labor than normal, plus juggling a whole lot of details about floor colors and prices and the latest plan for the family room ceiling, all while worrying that this (necessary) month of craziness will permanently ruin the girls, or at least their nap schedules.

I crave normal, routine, home.

It seems impossibly far, and yet delightfully close.

And isn't that the human condition, really?  Our hearts were built yearning for something more, restless always until they rest in Him.  We instinctively know and desire that there is something - some place - beyond this messy, imperfect world where we long to be home.

If there's anything that Justin and I have learned in this year, it's that longing for a place of comfort and familiarity - and the realization that it will never entirely be fulfilled in this life, no matter how perfect the paint colors or how plushy the carpet (and, believe me, it's plushy, we ordered it today!)  There will always be (metaphoric and literal) stink bugs and dog hair and annoying dryers because life isn't perfect and because we have lessons to learn as we muddle through.  But someday, someday God willing, the brilliant beauty of Heaven will fulfill us at last.

Eyes on the prize.  Eyes on the prize.