Empty

In my life, memories have been categorized by houses. Each of the 12 houses and locations I have lived in during the past 22 years is like a chapter of my story.

Tomorrow the 13th chapter of my life begins, as we start over in a new house and area. We've planned this move for months, but it never really sinks in that a life chapter is 'over' until the house is empty.

That's when you start thinking about what you're leaving behind.

Not that you ever mean to or want to leave things behind when you move...though, when I was little and we were leaving a house to move to a new one, I used to like to hide a note or a letter somewhere sneaky, basically stating "Jacqueline lived here."

I don't do that anymore - I try to remember to bring everything with me when I leave a house. However, I do get a little sentimental, thinking about leaving memories behind.

Memories live in your heart and your head - I know they can't be left behind, technically. However, when I look through an empty house where so many memories have been lived, I can't help but worry a little that things will be forgotten when I'm not there.


Maybe it's just the kind of person I am. That fridge is naked and clean today - but a couple of weeks ago it was covered by "memories." Pictures drawn and scribbled by nieces and nephews, magnet photos of friends and family, clippings I wanted to remember from the local newspaper...I've always had this need to remember important people, places and things in my life. It's hard to let go.

I can take all my refridgerator decor with me to the new house - but what about the other memories that were not memorialized in writing, photo or drawing?

All houses hold good memories and bad memories - this house has been no different...and I want to remember it all.

I want to remember the laughter, the music, the quiet peacefulness of being in the country, the close proximity to our families, the joy of first time pregnancy...all those wonderful things.

But I also want to remember the bad - the anguish of miscarriage, the frustration of doubt, the fear and anxieties of beginning a new pregnancy, the anger through fighting sickness, and dabbles in depression when I can barely hold up under the weight of the world and forget that Christ is there to take that burden for me. Those weren't pleasant times, but those were the most important times here - those were times of deep growth.

So I get a little depressed when leaving an old house - it's saddening leaving behind the rooms where your life has played out, for good and bad...

It's also hard not knowing what to expect when you begin again in a new house... What memories will be created there? Will it feel like home?


This lamp was a wedding present, and it has hung in both the kitchens we've lived in together has husband and wife. As I was packing up the kitchen last week, I began to take down the lamp...

"What are you doing?" Matt asked.

"There's no point in hanging this up in the new house - we may not be there longer than 3 months." I said.

He took it out of my hands and put it back on its chain. "We've hung this lamp in every house we've lived in so far, and we'll hang it in the new one," he said.

I like it when my husband gets all assertive and bossy, and I was comforted by his words.

Chapters ending do not have to be sad, and new chapters beginning do not have to be scary. Wherever we go, there will be new memories, and as long as we're together we will be "home."