“It sold.” My husband said as he hung up the phone.
We had planned this out all of our married lives. We had promised it to ourselves. I’m almost sure there was even a pinkie oath somewhere in there. But now that the day had finally come, it felt like a punch in the gut. I cried just as soon as the words left his lips.
Our home, the one we had lived in for almost two decades no longer belonged to us. It was officially not ours.
The first home we ever bought. The first home our 11 year-old adopted son could truly call “home.” It was right there in that livingroom he hugged both of us and with tears streaming down his face told us how glad he was to finally have a real home. This was the home we had spent the last 10 years creating an oasis in the backyard, complete with a covered porch, water fountains, fire pit and chair swing that turned into a bed. My family had lived just a short 15 minutes down the road from this house. From holidays to birthdays, triumphs and tragedy, this house had seen our entire lives unfold for nearly two decades and it had been good to us.
I was giving all of that up. For what? The unknown.
The real estate on the west coast had become such game of roulette that moving out of state was our best chance of finding that “dream home” in the country, that home we’d always promised ourselves we’d buy one day when the time was right.
We gave up everything that was familiar to us in the hopes of a promise that we had made to each other. Well, that and definitely some nudging from God that it was time. And aside from everything else, when God says it’s time, it’s time.
That journey has brought us almost 2400 miles from “home.” If you count the number of times we’ve had to cross the country it would be closer to about 30,000 miles, maybe more, if I think about it.
The day our house sold feels like a lifetime ago. Between those miles, and one year, our lives have been filled with tragedy, mystery, death, doubt and faith, priceless memories, adventure and discovery. The mystery, as we speak, it still unfolding. The faith is growing. And the adventure continues.
At the prompting of my older sister, I’ve decided to call this season of our lives “The Hilltop Chronicles.” Stay tuned!
Encouragement Along the Journey of Life.
Author Anne Day 