I've been sucked into the black hole of moving. I don't want to actually write about that because it's all I think about, talk about and actually do anymore, but when you eat, sleep and breathe a thing it is hard not to write about it as well.
I have to tell you though, amidst all this hustle and bustle and madness of lists of to-do's that there have been moments of utter beauty. Yesterday boasted twelve long hours of cleaning and painting. We even brought in and unpacked two boxes.
Around 3pm we broke for a swim in the lake, whose water was so clear we could see the fish waiting for us to join them. The girls ran off the boat dock and leaped in, arms pinwheeling under a blue sky that prophecies autumn. I turned toes up and flung my arms out in an embrace of water and sky and just...simply...floated.
Later in the evening, pink sky and quicksilver pink water reflected a visitation of grazing geese and one lone great blue heron, who also stood with wings outstretched as though that much glory shouldn't be wasted without someone worshiping.
Then there were the moments that we all stood around in the kitchen (because our house has no chairs in it yet!) eating the first meal cooked on our new stove. Every person laughing and jostling around each other, trying to find room on the counter between the paint brushes, and paper towels and cleaning supplies, turning up their noses at the beautiful array of olives and over indulging on Amish cheese. I took a deep breath for a moment and thought "This is home. Again I am home. God just keeps bringing me home."
These are the moments I am clinging to, like stepping stones in a furiously moving river. This weekend promises to be a blur of activity as Hunky travels to Florida, and we take advantage of school free hours to move forward at a maddening pace, but also filled with moments worth noticing and taking to heart, and remembering.