Madame Blueberry~Guest Blogger: Inbetween Country and City Mom

My sweet friend Tammie is moving from a City Mom to a Country Mom this week. Enjoy her reflections on leaving the home where she brought home (most) of her babies...

My mom moved us from our childhood home my freshman year of college.  She told me that after all the boxes were out she sat in the silence and cried. She said she could literally see the four of us kids running through the house at various stages of our lives and hear our voices as if it were real. I thought she was crazy and blew her off as any normal 18 year old would. How wrong I was.

 Packing up this house has been harder than I ever imagined it would be. Though I trust Gods timing, this is where my memories are. I brought one toddler and 3 babies home here and raised them. I watched them take their first steps, heard their first words, cheered on their accomplishments, prayed with them, homeschooled them, ran behind them as they learned to bike, celebrated 22 birthdays, and 9 Christmases here.  Just like my mom I can see them playing and running and hear them giggling. It’s eerie and wonderful and sad all at the same time. Oh how I have cried. I've cried and I've cried and I've cried.

I remember how excited we were to buy this house. We thought the place was ginormous compared to our tiny old home. 

But after we got here it was a let down. I longed to go back. That was our first home and it was darling and fixed up the just way we liked it. We had dear friends as neighbors. We brought our first child home there as well as grieved the loss at birth of our second.  Here our fridge broke the DAY we moved in. Our furniture (what little we had) was all hand me down and didn’t look as cute in this house. I looked at my new walls that were not the colors I liked and the dated fixtures, old appliances and ugly flooring and the kitchen sink which was disgusting and the ugly landscaping and I was miserable. We could barely afford our mortgage and I knew I would have to live with all this  . . ugliness. I wished we had never moved. And I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried.  (Mind you I was very pregnant as well as still grieving a loss. I am not really that much of a basket case. Only sometimes.) And then the Lord spoke to me. Through Veggie Tales.

One day two year old Gillian was sitting on the couch watching a Veggie Tales and I was working in the kitchen. I glanced up when Madame Blueberry started singing:

I'm so blue-hoo-hoo, Blue-hoo-hoo, Blue-hoo-hoo hoo!

Bob and Larry: She's so blue she don't know what to do!

My neighbors have nice things, I've seen them myself

In fact, I keep pictures up here on my shelf!

Look at this new flatware of Monsieur LaGoon's

And Monsieur DesPlanes has twelve Franklin mint spoons!

And Phillip Van Pea went and bought a new sink,

Why, he even has a disposal, I think!

And look at this crock pot of Madame Lacrosse's

And ceramic jars where she keeps all her sauces!

Nice sauces...

 Just look at this sofa of Edward and Tammy's,

And lovely armoire where they keep all their jammies!

I really can't stand it, I think I may die!

Now where was that hanky? I'm going to cry!   . . . . .Too late! Waaaah!

I thought to myself, “Yes! This berry can RELATE!” I plopped down next to Gillian to watch. The story unfolded as one where she learns to be THANKFUL for what she has. It ends with the ditty "Because a thankful heart is a happy heart! I'm glad for what I have, That's an easy way to start. For the love that He shares, 'Cause He listens to my prayers, That's why I say thanks every day!" The message hit me like a ton of bricks. And I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried.

From that moment I purposed to be thankful for the gift God had given us in this home. I daily thanked God and reminded myself of what we loved about this house. It was on a beautiful quiet street by a park and a lake and had more than enough space. We slowly but surely made it our own and eight and a half years later it looks nothing like it did when we moved in.  It is now exactly how we want it with new flooring and baseboards, paint colors I have chosen in every room, new light fixtures and appliances, new bathrooms, new furniture and a beautifully finished basement. I am thankful.

God has been so faithful to us. He has directed each step of this moving process as we felt Him lead us to wait in the past when we thought we should move and nudged us forward to purchase our new home. It has been my dream to raise my kids on a hobby farm and God saved me one. It had been on the market for two years at a price we could never afford but dropped in price the very day we sold our home. HIS timing is always perfect. It literally has EVERYTHING I had ever wanted in a hobby farm. It looks like a doll house and He made sure it had some of the features I love in my current home.  He even made sure I still had a toddler to watch grow there.  What a God of details.

As I pack up and grieve I am committed to not let myself fall into despair and ingratitude after I move into our new home. I know I will miss the wonderful people, convenience and features of this neighborhood. I will miss this house that we have lovingly made our home. I will be consoling my children whose little hearts are heavy to leave the only home they have ever known as well as best friends and their beloved park.  And I surely have my work cut out for me to make the new place feel like ours. (God thought we could deal with the cosmetics of the new house ourselves. It needs a little TLC.) But I am committed to being thankful.

I am excited for our new adventure as a family. I am so so so grateful for the opportunity to give my children room to roam. I pray that I will honor God by opening my home to friends, family, and strangers alike. I am excited for the future and trusting God as he has never ever failed this family. Dave keeps reminding the kids (and us grown ups) that the memories come with us.  And as strange as it seems to be hearing and seeing my children’s sweet faces in the stillness and quiet, there is one more voice I can’t get out of my head. That pesky berry. She is coming with me, too.