There was something bittersweet about closing, about sitting there signing papers with the sellers of the home. The sellers of the home were an older couple who had lived in the little house for most of their married life. As they gave me tips about the neighbors and shared things that they are going to miss about the house, I couldn't help but feel sad. The couple is moving because of declining health and the need for a smaller space, and that tension of their lives coming to a close as our's are seemingly, just beginning, hung in the air with a heaviness that I couldn't shake. As they shared memories of their home and said that we were lucky to be getting "a real family house," I felt like I needed a minute to acknowledge the valuable lives that had been lived inside of 5110 before we ever came along.
The legacy of this home is that great love lived within its walls. Children and grandchildren giggled as they were tickled on the living room floor. A man and his wife shared meals around a table together, looking out in the backyard over their vegetable garden as they chattered about their days. Dishes were scrubbed while looking out at the neighborhood children playing in the street, as runners and bikers passed by, as dogs chased Frisbees in the front yards. Christmases, birthdays, Thanksgivings were all celebrated within these walls.
And I think about all that has happened within the walls of our own small space over the past two years. I think about my move to Indy and living in this apartment by myself for a few months-- how fun it was to wake up and have quiet time by the bay window as I sipped my morning coffee. I think about Scott carrying me into our apartment the day we flew back from our wedding. I remember thinking it was weird to have a boy sleeping in the bed next to me and wondering if this apartment was really big enough for two people's lives to be crammed into.
In two years, these walls saw a lot tears. Tears from laughter and tears from heartache; tears on good days and tears on not-so-good days. And in the midst of tears and trials, great love lived within these walls. I could not imagine the depth of love that I could feel for another person before marrying Scott; I thought that I knew what love was and what it means to be selfless for another person. But within these walls, I've learned what it really means to love another human-- to cry for their sorrows, to celebrate their victories, to feel angry for their battles.
We're taking our love with us to our new home, and we'll live out the little home's legacy of great love. Small as it may be, it is our's, and we plan to steward it well. We cannot wait to have people over and to have a fluffy animal running around in the backyard. Thanks for walking with us and praying with us along this journey. Two years ago, I thought I was moving to Indy for a brief stay of maybe a year of two. Never did I envision buying a house and planting roots here. While we still ache for North Carolina and hope to be back there some day, we're using our time away to grow and stretch and learn and love.