I sit on my bed, sandwiched between a restless toddler and a half-naked sleeping four-year-old on the last morning I will ever wake up in this house that I have disliked for ten years.
This house we bought, knowing all its flaws and fixer-uppers qualities, but always lacked the skill and money to give the attention it desperately needed.
This house that went so quickly to big enough to way too small.
This house that was outdated before we ever stepped through the front door.
This house that was a blessing from God and a shelter to our bodies and spirits.