In an amazing order of events including one of my favorite untold poop stories, we have found the perfect house for our rowdy crew. Tomorrow we will close and begin moving our bunch into a barn. Yep. Living our truth. My kids can finally tell people yes, they were raised in a barn. The truth is that I'm as wildly excited about God's provision here as the kids are. We can't wait to explore everything and make this place our own. We're celebrating the imminent move by succumbing one by one to fevers, congestion and stomach ache. I personally opted for the full package including the extra burning ulcer and caffeine restriction. Just for fun.
Thankfully, we don't have to be out of our house tomorrow. If it takes a bit longer it'll be OK. After several years of fighting clutter, my closets seem to have joined the battle of the bulge. The more I pack away or just plain get rid of, the more seems to be waiting for me. Children's clothing breeds in the dark recess of the closet or possibly the laundry hamper. It produces litters of clothing just off a useful size or season. It all must be dealt with. Cabinets I thought were previously clutter free sprout old bottle pieces or random empty jars. It begs the question, is it ever possible to truly be packed and ready to move out? And of course, what goes out must go back in. The fun will continue.
Last night I spent my time rocking sick babies until the wee hours when I begged David to take over and give me a bit of rest (he did, by the way and even made breakfast). Tonight I can hear coughing starting up again. Rooms that should be packed and done are still waiting. But that's OK. We're not racing anyone.
Last week, David and I had a charming date at a Chinese restaurant. While waiting at the Walmart pharmacy for the billionth time this week, I found a long lost fortune cookie hiding in the recesses of my anti-Mary Poppins purse. You know. Hers was feather light and housed everything known to man. Mine is a ton of bricks and I still can't find my keys! Anyway, the fortune cookie said "an extra hour is worth more than an ounce of gold". Seriously. I'm not kidding. That's what it said. All I can say is if someone had paid me for all the hours this last week I've spent at a clinic or waiting on medications I'd be a rich woman. This moving story is definitely full of rich twists and turns and will never be forgotten!
