This house came along exactly when we needed it, and it was by way of a miracle that we got it in the first place. It was previously owned by the little local church as a parsonage - and it spent most of it's 105 years as one. Fitting that God was in this place before we were.
I love this house. I love its character and warmth. I love that B bounced up those steps on our first date. I love that we danced in my kitchen and captured a million kid memories, too. But it's time to move on. And so it goes on.
The kids and I are moving into an apartment for a few months while Bryon and I make our plans. It just didn't make sense to re-up for longer when we knew we'd be moving soon. The kids will be staying in the same school they are in, but it is still an exciting transition.
And so the moving binder comes out again.
And so I am planning two things at once. Mostly the move. And the building out of Bryon's home. Alongside that glittery with goodness union of Bryon and moi.
More to come.
HERE'S TO PACKIN'!
And Dear B: Thanks for being the mortar to my rock. For grabbing my hand at the top of the stairs last night to pray because you needed to. Thanks for collapsing on me in the most fantastic hugs ever, and for saying you love me more. Even though you most certainly do not. I can't WAIT to see how our lives continue to unfold before us. Knuckles all in, Babe. Here's to Norwegian churches and waterfalls.