“Dear Heavenly Father, thank you,” he began. Then there was a pause, a sigh and the unmistakable sound of gentle tears beginning to stream down each of our faces. I dare not open my eyes and so instead I squeeze them tightly shut. “Thank you, thank you. Amen.” He finished. And then with a laugh through tears, “there wasn’t anything else to say.”

I looked around our little circle: mom, dad, sister. It’s how we came into the house, brand new, almost 29 years ago and it’s how we left. Just our sweet little family, overwhelmed at the goodness of the Lord. That house has been a vessel for so much ministry, joy, laughter, tears, and growth. So much growth. And yet the building is really just a shadow of the depth of memories we have there.

We spent the weekend ankle deep, sometimes knee deep, in boxes of report cards, school projects, photographs, clothes, toys, books…memories. Oh it was terribly exhausting but so beautiful. Sunday morning, in our little circle, was the step back. The lid on each box sealed tight. The last load driven to Goodwill. In a small pile in the middle of the garage lay our worldly possessions. And I realized that even if those were taken away, we still had the gift this house has been in our hearts. And how overwhelming it was to take a look at what the Lord has done.

It was a reminder that we are eternal. Our hearts will always long for something and somewhere else. Because we were made for somewhere and something else! I love Hood River and the Lord has provided in incredible, unexpected ways. A piece of my heart will always live in San Diego. As it is now, yes, but also for what we had for 29 years. Knowing I can’t get that time back and knowing it’s a glimpse of the beauty of eternity, I try to settle my heart in the tension.

Goodbye, our sweet little house.