Homeless

This was our house on the last day.



I did in fact cry. More than once. While the men from church loaded the truck and our good friend Damon reminisced and made me cry. And then while we finished the last cleaning and my bestie Michele let me cry on her shoulder. Kate and Julia cried on each other's shoulders. The younger kids didn't cry because we wisely had them playing at their friends houses during this part.

And then Jeff had an allergic reaction to something in the garage and his face got so puffy that he looked like a lion for 3 days. But he didn't cry. He might have felt bad after Henry saw his eyes though and asked, "Dad, will you put your sunglasses back on?"  He was freaky looking, I gotta say.

So now we are officially homeless. Without a home. Without a permanent residence. Not without a place to stay thanks to family while we wait on our yellow house, WillowBrook at Bountiful Acres, to come through.

It is a strange feeling, not having a place to move our stuff into. Living out of suitcases and on air mattresses. Thankfully for two weeks we are staying in my brother's house until they get back from living half way across the country. There is a Balm in Gilead because my children know this house so well and have had no problems going to sleep. It has made this weird transition much nicer. Thank you Keno and Amy!

And then after that? Stay at my sisters for a little bit, stay with my loving in-laws for a bit. They kindly offered to let us stay there for as long as we need while we wait for our house.

And I know we are not really homeless. We are fortunate to have family to let us stay with them and the means to find somewhere else to live if our dream home doesn't pan out. (which it will). So know that I am not comparing myself to others who truly are homeless.

I told my children that as long as we are a family, we are never without a home. Home is where your family is-so your car, a hotel, a family members house-all home if we are together.

I also told them, which I know they hated, that happiness is a choice. That having stuff and things to entertain us is not what true happiness is. That we can choose to be happy over being miserable. And why would anyone choose misery over happiness? Maybe it's easier to let that feeling creep into your heart instead of showing faith and working hard to be grateful and joyous for all that we do have. I'm sure it is. But I wasn't raised to be lazy.

Plus, I like the adventure. It's a little disorienting, but at the same time exciting to not know what's going to happen. To just live,  in faith and trust that God knows us and has a perfect plan for us.

The Savior himself was homeless at one point. Born in a manger. Yet He lived with perfect joy, serving others, bringing about a righteous purpose and saving all mankind.

And all I have to do is keep my chin up and find joy in my  family and in the beautiful life that I have?
Done:)