Letting Go

(our view)

In December of 1994, my husband and I bought 7.5 acres of rugged, wild land in northern Los Angeles county. There wasn't a spec of water, electricity or gas attached to the property. What stands here today was brought in by us, built by us, nurtured by us. A week before our oldest son was born, the foundation was poured, and we etched our names and date into the soft concrete.

And now, we prepare to list it for sale. We've known this moment was coming, but still, that doesn't make it easier. This is the only home our sons have ever known. So many memories have been made here...birthday parties, family gatherings, end-of-school swim parties. The boys and I have laid on the driveway at night and stared up at the clear, starry sky countless times. It's a special place.

It's also well known in our small community. When my sons participated in Every 15 Minutes, there was an audible gasp in the auditorium when the camera panned our home. Most of the teenagers in that room had knocked on our front door, played tag on that wide expanse of grass, laughed at that kitchen table.

We've planted roots here. Deep roots. It breaks my heart to see my husband so detached from our marriage, our family, and the home we built with our own hands. And yet, here we are.

I'm focusing on this truth: the memories made in our home were not because of the house itself. Special memories were made here because of the people. Wherever we go, we'll take that with us--the tightly bonded family, the ever-present friends, the games we'll play around the kitchen table.

As the boys and I prepare for this next season, our hearts are heavy but hopeful. Heavy for what we're letting go. Hopeful because we know God is directing our path, and guiding us with wisdom. 

Buying this land was a blessing. Building our home was a blessing. Raising our sons here was a blessing. I'm so thankful I recognized that while we've been here. I've been grateful for this lovely home all along.

As we venture forth into a new frontier, the boys and I know we're not alone. If you're the praying kind, I humbly ask that you keep us in your prayers.

Until next time...