“Pinch me. I must be dreaming,” Gwen confessed to me concerning her life in Minnesota, as we closed our very first, new-neighbor conversation.
She stole the words right out of my mouth. Or rather… as I sit here on my screened-in porch, sipping hot coffee in the cool of the Minnesota morning, listening to birds chirp and squirrels scatter … she actually put those words in my mouth.
Someone pinch me, please. I must be dreaming!
Well, in reality, I should want to be actually dreaming, because my first sleep at the house was much worse than it was better. Literal dreaming would mean I was sleeping, and that would probably be the healthiest thing for me right now. But I tend to have sleeping problems when I’m excited anyway, so it’s okay. I’ll live the dream instead.
We arrived. We are here. The house… You guys. We don’t deserve one smidgen of its adorableness, enchantedness, and perfection! I will repeat, enchanted. If I were to sum up all the feels in one word, I would say, enchanted. I just want to put on a sundress, dance around, and sing fairytale songs with the critters and birds… and maybe even, the giant quarter-sized mosquitoes. They can join too. I’m so elated to be in this perfect little, spellbinding cottage! Even the nastiness of the bugs can’t keep me down.
Good writers shouldn’t need to use all-caps and a million exclamation points… so I’m holding back on having a typing freak-out moment with how extreme my emotions are wanting to burst out in jubilee right now. (AAAAAAAH!!!!!!! Okay sorry… pretend I didn’t do that… I couldn’t help myself!).
I cannot hold it back! I want to stay in this house forever. It’s absolutely magical. Every single person needs to come stay with us. Just saying.
What else is there to say, other than I am beyond thankful?
Well, for starters, the road trip was good. I had some good mother-daughter time. Waldo was adorable, because he asked us 100 times, “How much until we are there?” That definitely made it longer. But he is such a sweet boy, and excited for gummy pizza and Rubble juice pit stops, that he definitely enhanced the travel.
I am so excited Waldo came with us. I think it will be (and already is) really good for him to be a part of our move.
The caravan from Nebraska to Minnesota included: Our dads driving the giant Penske truck, Bobby driving his Rav4, and the rest of the crew (my mom, Waldo, and me) driving my mom’s minivan. Saint Kathy stayed back with Dolly and Lois (Thank you, thank you dear, dearest mother-in-law! We know who did the REAL work this weekend). The plan was (and is) to leave Bobby’s car here, all go back to Omaha in my mom’s van, and then, on the 28th, when we actually MOVE-move, Bobby and the kids and I can drive our minivan up together.
The first 30 minutes upon arrival entailed Waldo and us exploring the exterior of the house. We hiked along the edge of the house, climbed giant rocks, looked for lizards, hid in the hostas, danced on the back patio, and skipped along the grass. When our landlord arrived, we investigated the interior by opening all the random little closets and doors, climbing the stairs, and peaking around the many corners to view all the unique twists and turns of this mini castle. It was older than I am used to, and smaller than the pictures online (which always happens), but pleased me never-the-less.
Honestly though, I was kind of sad I wasn’t swept off my feet more, upon entering the threshold. The cobwebs, tininess, and odd quirks of the house made me think a little more than feel. But it was okay.
Because as soon as we started loading all our possessions into the house, the fire in my bosom started sparking and catching. Seeing our kitchen table inside, along with all our couches, and random baskets, bins, and beds, started to sink it in: this is our house. My love and zeal grew as quick as the stacks of cardboard towers. This is our house!
I kind of had a mental reunion with my salt and pepper shakers, coffee mugs, Kitchenaid, and pots and pans. We were all happy to see each other. I wanted to hug my spatula.
Not because I have special kitchen items. No, they are all mostly hand-me-downs and clearance purchases. I owe my spirited reunion to my intense cravings to have a home again. Oh, how I have been craving house-making! And these little kitchen items started scratching my itch. “I’ll be back, little guys… you just see… in one week, we will be together forever!”
When it was all said and done, our muscles ached, and our bodies couldn’t lift or unpack even a crayon… I was left enamored. Overwhelmed with the amount of work. But enamored that we were finally here. And then, I couldn’t sleep, despite my exhaustion, because my mind started penning three thousand to-do lists and task lists and wish lists. I have a major problem, people.
Yet, here I am. Already breaking in the house with a freshly spilled cup of coffee (classic Sarah occurrence). Bobby and I are enraptured by this beaut. Kissing me good morning he said, “Welcome to your Colorado resort.”
Yup. We are swept off our feet. The first impression of our house: love at first sight. I could go on and on about the old-fashioned floorboard creaks, light-spilling window sills, and darling door handles, but I will refrain myself… for now.
Lastly though, before I close, I must add probably THE most important excitement about the whole thing. Bobby met guys in his cohort. Face. To. FACE! Gratitude was so intense toward the nine-ish guys who came to help that I felt awkward. It is strange to meet someone for the first time and have them offer you such hard, laborious work. Plus, part of my awkwardness was due to the fact that I was majorly outnumbered by males. Normally when we meet a new couple, I’m like, “Oh hi, man, where is your wife?” Ha. But no wives accompanied their mates (appropriately). Thus, my eagerness for girly company was quenched. Yet my gratitude toward our new friends, and Bobby’s new classmates, was over and abounding. Thank you, new strangers, for volunteering your muscles, legs, and perspiration for our very large 5-person move! And an obvious large thank you to our parents who helped us with all the complicated details and everything as well. And thank you to all the guys back at home who helped load the truck, too. Ah. Geesh. If I could go on and on about the floorboards, I could go on and on and on AND ON about how thankful I am for the PEOPLE we have in our lives. I could not be sitting here blogging to my heart’s content, if it were not for all the people who love and care for us. We are not self-made. Not even a tiny bit. What would we do without people? We would be losers on the side of the street, I think. God was pretty brilliant to give us human communities wasn’t he?
Oh, Lord, thank you for this house. But, thank you for the people who actually got us here a million-times more. I am thankful and worshipful for the light streaming in highlighting the ferns outside our house. But I am more — so thankful and worshipful for the people God continually streams into our lives making us the happiest people on Earth. How good people are to us. How good God is to us! How utterly good God is.
Seminary Wife 