I didn't much appreciate all the hair I lost a couple months after delivering each of the boys. There's a medical term for it, and I started my shedding exactly 12 weeks after each of their birthdays. Hair everywhere. Yuck. A receding hair line. Double yuck.
This is much better kind of shedding. Therapeutic in fact.
We're getting ready to move. But we have found the house we're moving to yet. This had me a little anxious, staring at the computer screen many evenings, searching and searching different real estate sites, as if I could actually bring our future house onto the market with sheer effort, determination, or magic combination of search requirements.
And then, God gave me a few nudges. You know, that I am not in control. A friend encouraged me, "Well, you could use this time to pack, so you're ready to go when you do find the house."
What, not wait until the days before we move to pack? Somehow, I just figured sleepless nights and a looming deadline were a part of moving. With two little ones, it's pretty unrealistic to think I am going to have 12 uninterrupted hours in a day to pack up our house. It's the packing rush that leads to the I-don't-have-time-to-sort-it mess, the mystery boxes, the dust collectors that were never opened from the previous move packed into a truck to move yet again.
So, I have time. And miraculously, I am using it. Sorting, organizing, shedding, labeling. With each trip to the dumpster, black trash bag in hand, I feel lighter. A little giddy in fact. I'm encouraged by the vision of our new home, even though I have no idea yet what it looks like. I have a sense of how it will feel, and I'm excited.