faith and sight

“This is all so amazing, but I feel like our theme for the year is, ‘Well … didn’t see that one coming.’ Be sure to put that on the Christmas card.”
“I think this is exactly what it means to ‘walk by faith and not by sight.'”
“Easy for you to say, Abby. You can’t even see your feet when you walk right now anyway.”
–pillow talk at the Hummel house.

Sometime this spring, when we started finishing up some nice projects on our house, falling in love with friends, and generally feeling like things were really holding together in life, I mentioned here on the blog that I did not anticipate moving this year. Ha. Ha. Ha. Apparently the only thing funnier than moving to Minnesota in December is saying you are going to stick around a bit and then moving to Missouri in August right before having a baby, so that’s what we’re going to do: Move to St. Louis this August, when I’m 7-8 months pregnant. Just like our last move, this was not on the list of options I gave God for my life, but I’m really getting the impression He isn’t consulting me most of the time.

This means over the course of about 20 months we’ll have added a large fun-and-energetic dog and two babies to our family, bookended by two state-to-state moves. It means I’m unexpectedly packing up all our stuff, furiously prepping the Coon Ranch for listing and feeling very aware of how lucky we got last time with a quick sale. It means keeping the current house clean enough to pass a white-glove test and looking like a hotel with a dog and a baby as I round the corner into the 3rd trimester of another pregnancy. It means passing up time with friends here because I am busy preparing for the move, so it feels like missing them already. It means hoping we like the new doctor I picked online (backed up with good personal recommendations from real people, of course), because I don’t have time to shop around for someone to deliver the new baby. It means that I’ll be trying to set up a new home (renting at first, for sanity’s sake) with Max and these almost-irish-twin babies while Aaron starts a new job that will probably be pretty intense. He’s been working 12-13 hours a day with a commute most of the time now and the new job would have to be pretty bad to rival this year’s schedule, but he still needs the freedom to be very committed there. It means figuring out where to grocery shop and bank and go to church with a 14-month-old and a newborn. It means starting all over with friends at a very intense, needy season of life. It means moving into another house I haven’t seen beforehand.

moving boxes

This also means all Aaron’s hard, hard work over the past 7 years is rewarded with a really great job that essentially landed in his lap, one that’s even better than we would have hoped for two years ago when he was initially job hunting. It means settling somewhere we can at least think and dream about staying for good, instead of moving-with-the-intent-to-move-again like we have been doing for a while. It means we have two kids after years of wondering if it would ever, ever happen. These are good gifts – true undisguised and tangible blessings – and they come mixed with some sorrows, but they are delightful anyway. Bringing a new baby home to a new place in a new state is not what we “saw” happening for this year, but it almost feels like that’s even more reason to do it anyway.

…we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight – 2 Corinthians 5:6-7




4 thoughts on “faith and sight

  1. So this is totally not the point of your lovely and encouraging post (as always!), but I’m wondering about the system you use for packing? From the picture you included you look very organized. Did you have any recommendations or links you could point me to? We’re looking at a cross-country move (thanks military) coming up soon – it will be my first one and I’m a little nervous!

    • I learned a LOT from my last move — we’re much, much more organized this time. It’s a basic system we’re using, and it’s not particularly complicated!
      PART 1) Get rid of half your stuff. No kidding. You will sleep better at night after this. My favorite game is, “If we had a fire, would I replace this for the new house?” … for instance, would I buy a cutting board? Yes. Would I buy all seven of these? No. So I got rid of three and kept the nicest four (two wood, one plastic, one glass. Now that I think about it, I’m debating about keeping the glass one right now after all.)

      PART 2) Keep a meticulous master list of box contents. Label each box with it’s number and a general description. I’m using address labels for that. My master list page has check boxes for (garage) which is where we’re storing them now, (onto truck) and (unpacked). Use graph paper and colored pens if you need that to feel “fun.” (I do.)

      PART 3) Get rid of more stuff as you go. If you’re not thinking, “Oh, I am SO EXCITED to unpack this and have it at my new place!!!!!!!” it is NOT worth the hassle. I don’t care how sentimental it is… You don’t actually need “things” to feel love to or from someone else. I threw away an apron my recently deceased grandma sewed me. I never used it and I don’t need it to remember how special she was to me. I have a brain for that. And if I lose my mind, no apron is going to bring back those memories anyway.

      You may not be a packrat, which means Part 2 is probably all you need, but I think the average American is a little more packrat than anyone wants to admit. 😉

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