Boxes

They are everywhere. I put my big girl panties on and started putting things in them. They have been here for a while now, but I have put it off. There is something sobering about packing up memories.

This house holds a lot of those. Maybe that is why its so hard to leave. Maybe knowing that for at least the next 4 years this wont be our home anymore, or maybe never again. This was Gracie's first home. The first place we went after leaving the hospital. Her first bedroom. Where I sat for hours before she arrived praying for her before I even met her. The room that she won't ever remember, but oh how it is etched in my memory. This was also the home that my desire to ever have a "Grace" began. I took care of my Nana here. We were room-mates. Oh, how I love that lady. Leaving is going to take a lot of grace, and I'm thankful I know who gives it.

My precious friend reminded me that I was going to have to put a period on this chapter of my life and start a new one. The one that I have dreaded. The one that reads, "Our new home in Miami". Gracie needs a home. She doesn't just need a house or a condo to rent for the next 4 years, she needs the safety, security and stability of a home. So in an effort to provide what my sweet girl needs the most, I am in the process of uprooting myself and replanting in a new territory. A new normal. A new everything.

Here is what I know, and what I am banking my entire life upon. God loves me, more than I love anything or anyone, and He wants me to seek him. So here begins the journey to seek the God I love.

I feel like Lucy from The Chronicles of Narnia when she asked if Aslan was safe, and she was told by Mr. Beaver, "Of course He is not safe, but He is good". God doesn't call me to safety or mediocrity. He isn't calling my husband to safety or mediocrity. God wants something done that only the Graeser's can do. I agree with Mr. Beaver. He is good!

If I want Gracie to live and die by the motto of "Graeser's don't whine or give up", then I better start being the example.

My mom always used to say, "When you don't know what the next step is, just do the next right thing." The next right thing for me is to continue packing up my kitchen.