Tonight, I sit here rocking my babies to sleep for the last time in the rocking chair we got when Isla was born. Like we have, every night for the last three years. Tomorrow, it goes to a nice new home with a sweet new baby.
Moving on is hard. It's not that I love this chair so much that I want to keep it, it's that it holds some of the most precious and dear memories to me. The memories of staring at their sweet faces as they sleep. The memories of tears when I cannot get them to sleep. The good night prayers from Isla's lips as she thanks Jesus for mommy and daddy. I cried tears of sorrow over losing this tangible memory and tears of happiness over the memories I get to take with me.
No matter how many times you move, it's hard. I mourn the loss of living near my family, of leaving my friends, of leaving my business and the life we built. But I press on with earnest and excitement over the life to come. Oh, but there are tears. Many tears.
For the past three weeks we've held yard sales as we try to sell everything we own in preparation of starting over in Scotland. Each weekend we lay our lives out on our front lawn for passerbys to pick through. They pay $1 for our treasures never realizing what those items are worth to us. As they haggle on prices we are torn apart over the loss of something so special to us that means nothing to the other person. How could it? The memories that that little trinket holds couldn't possibly be understood by them because they didn't buy it on the streets of Cairo. They didn't hand paint that dresser to soon put their first child's little clothes in. They didn't use that mixer to create several test cakes to make sure their child's birthday cake was perfect for her party. I mourn the loss of each item knowing that I can no longer hold a tangible reminder in my hand of those memories.
But then I'm reminded. I'm reminded that I have photos of each item that needs remembering. Oh, that may sound cliche. But guys, I hold on to each of those photos with a passion to hold on to the exact moment it was taken. As I feel my heart break over each one of my daughter's newborn outfits going to new families, I remember each photo I took of her wearing those clothes. As I mourn the loss of her crib, I remember the photos of her standing up for the first time unassisted in her crib. As I hold on tightly to her baby bathtub, I remember the photos of her splashing around happily. As we tear down our living room, I have photos of us laughing and loving and dancing and living together. I cherish each photo that, at the time, I took as just a fun moment to remember but that I now get to see as a needed reminder of what was.
Moving on is good. It makes us change and grow and become the person we need to be but it's never easy. I've cried buckets of tears and I know I have many more to come as I leave behind a life I love so much. Yet, I know that God has called us to a new one that I accept with anticipation of what it holds. People keep telling me that we're an inspiration for following our dreams and living a life of adventure but what you don't see behind the scenes is the sadness of going and the turmoil that comes with new adventures.
But, hey, sadness and doubts are good if it doesn't keep you from being the best adventurer that you are called to be! So if you're scared. It's ok. I am too. Get out there and keep adventuring because the world is too big to sit still.