God has good, slightly last minute, timing. As always. He gave me someone to rent my house. I never doubted He would work it out if He really wanted me to go. If all goes well (I’ve learned not to fully depend on things like this, even so), we’ll sign the lease Friday. She’s a TWU professor, of all people (Read previous post here to get God’s inside joke). She has a young daughter that had really, really wanted a bunny that she could let run around free in her backyard (Read previous post here to get God’s second inside joke). Bunny Fufu hopped up into our backyard as I showed her around, and hopped right up to us. I think and pray they’ll have a good life in my house.

So…

All is perfect and set, then. Thank You, God.

Now starts Lauren’s heavy breathing, rapid heartbeat, and last minute doubts. Last minute doubts are rare and immediately brushed to the side because they make no logical sense and are definitely not of God’s leading, I feel. Especially in the way He’s set things up. Now there’s lovingly been blood and sweat spent on making the house perfect for a new family. It’s pretty unrecognizable from the little house that Nate and I bought 2 years ago. We did so much to it… We loved it.

Went outside tonight and gathered around a fence with all my neighbors. We played with the bunny, talked, and laughed for an hour until the sun went down. I love my neighbors. They’ve been so good to us. I told them I’m going to miss them, and they got real quiet. Told them I’d try to come back one day.

I’m ready for a new life, as much as there’s still a part of me that doesn’t want to leave the old one. This is like taking a cast off a broken limb. The limb is still weak, a little crusty with dead skin that still needs to be removed, and still sore from brokenness. But there comes a point when it hinders more to keep a cast on. In this case, I still want the cast on because I’m scared of the future. But I know I need to have it sawed off in order to move, to run, to live. The house acts as my cast right now. Keeping me in a safe little “Nathan’s life” bubble. Oh, how I miss life with Nathan. Or just him.  Many times every day. But life now is unrecognizable from then and I know it. This act of moving is much more than leaving a house. It’s leaving that life. That’s why it’s hard. I’ve had to deal with hard things when they’ve happened to me, but I think this is the hardest thing I’ve willingly ever had to do. I might change my mind when I let Nate’s ashes fly into the wind.

So…

Goodbye, House. I love the life you remind me of and that I had in you. You kept me safe when I needed safety more than anything else. Maybe I can come to you again when I’ve grown more. I need to face that I may never return, but I’m too sad to think that maybe God will never have me live in you again. I comfort myself by saying I will come back in the future. I just don’t know. Don’t know much of anything, actually. But, in the meantime, House, I have some healing that I need to do outside of you.

And so…

Hi, Chicago. I’m finally coming soon. Be good to us.

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