On saying goodbye to places, the worst apartment ever, and learning to be content.
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Saying goodbye is not easy. I lived the first 18 years of my life in my parent’s home. After leaving there, I’ve moved 17 times including this move to our farmhouse. Our most unusual living quarters were in an old Catholic church shaped in a cross in Cincinnati, Ohio. It used to be a school so we lived in a few dorm rooms while we waited for our apartment to become available. I still remember the lump in my throat as my dad drove away. Our worst apartment, also in Cincinnati, came complete with cockroaches for roommates and air conditioning only in the bedroom.
I have been packing up all week and taking loads of boxes to the farmhouse. We are almost ready to leave our city house and head for the country. I have been enjoying my backyard knowing that it will soon be ending and wondering where my favorite spot will be in my new yard.
|Our yellow lab has already found his favorite spot on the front porch.|
Sometimes saying goodbye to the gardens and yard we worked hard on are as difficult for us gardeners as saying goodbye to the house. Maybe it’s because we can’t take our plants with us like we can all the furniture and decorations we love.
|Butterflies in my kitchen garden.|
|Autumn clematis blooming on our fences.|
When I was living in apartments during my husband’s medical training, my older sister gave me some great advice. She said, “Don’t wait for your someday house. Make every place you live as special and beautiful as you can afford.” I took that to heart and did just that, wallpapering and painting and making each place a home. I always wanted to be content with whatever God gave me even when that was hard. Making our apartments feel like our special retreat helped with that longing to have our own place.
After many, many years we built a custom home in Washington state with a view of the Olympic mountains. I thought I’d never have a home I loved that much again. But I was wrong. We never know what’s ahead, do we?
I’ve lived in the inner city, suburbs and the country. Dorm rooms, apartments, duplexes, and houses, but never in a 120 year old farmhouse surrounded by farmland.
|My son’s new kitten, “Minnie” hanging out with me as I work.
I don’t want to think about all the boxes I’ve packed and unpacked and all the precious friends I’ve said goodbye to. I am thankful that The Noah Farm will be our place of rest for now. I can’t wait to share more photos of our home with you once we get settled.