Echo

That is what has become of my home now. An empty tomb. General, normal, everyday house sounds reverberating off the bare walls.

We took pictures today and it should officially be on the market tomorrow. While most-if not all-of you know what that means to my family, I have come to realize how sad it is as well. I know I've preached that memories aren't in material things and that moving from this home is what Ryan and I need (and that TOTALLY still holds true), but as we've been packing and rearranging to make this home not ours anymore, it feels like I am slowly losing a piece of me. My family is what makes me, me and to make our house more desirable and for people to picture themselves in it, I have to lose me (my pictures, my decorations) in the process. Ryan tells me it's not permanent and of course I know that, but the sounds in my house and the warmth is missing and so different. I've been trying to figure out what had me unsettled about all of this and I think I have finally figured it out. The sound and the lack of warmth.

On the flip side, I do have total peace with the decision to sell. If you recall awhile back, I had total reassurance from God that this was what we needed to do. I just never imagined the emotions all of this would make surface.

If I may be so frank in all of this, those of you that know us, and even those that don't, please respect us. Please don't snoop into our home or pry for curiosities sake. And please, please pray that we can continue to have peace with this decision, that the Lord will go before us and make this process simple for us, that we-I- continue to have faith, that the pictures taken today will show prospective buyers that this house can really be a home (because it truly did hold some fond memories for us) and that those that are working closely with us can be led as well.