Final Thoughts about 5934 Cornell Drive

I have not had the energy to post for a while because of the move. Now I feel like we are beginning to see a light at the end of the unpacking-and-organizing-endless-stuff tunnel. Don't get me wrong -- we have a long way to go, but I can see that little pinpoint of light and it is so encouraging!

We closed on our former house 2 days ago, and we drove by tonight to see if the new owners had moved in yet. It was so weird to see different cars parked in the driveway and unfamiliar furniture on the front porch. When he saw the cars, Jack said, "It looks like we have guests."

On Thursday, I did my final walk-through, and the children's rooms were the ones that struck an emotional chord.

Here is Claire's empty room -- it was the first room we painted when we moved in the house. I was pregnant with Claire and the color was called "Lauren's Lullaby"; it reminded me of pink frosting.

Here is Jack's room -- he selected the red; with all of his stuff it was a red, white and blue room because he loved the American flag and the Pledge of Allegiance when we decorated his room.

For the first 5-6 years of Jack's life, if he was awake, I was playing with him (and Claire, once she joined us). (I cleaned when they were napping and after they went to bed at night.) Therefore, we spent hours and hours in their bedrooms building with Legos and Lincoln logs, doing puzzles, playing board games, pretending to be in outer space (Jack had a space ship tent), pretending to be royalty (Claire had a castle tent), dancing, making music with a little Wal-Mart percussion set and kazoos and recorders, playing indoor hide-n-seek, having tea parties, cooking in the Little Tikes kitchen, reading wonderful books, singing, talking, and laughing. Those rooms were also where I taught both children to read and where I had the privilege to lead Jack and Claire through the ABC prayer (what some people call the "sinner's prayer). It's hard to think about never being able to go back there again and just peek in.

When I look back, I remember often feeling that those days would NEVER end (similar to the "Ground Hog Day" sort of phenomenon), and now I am sorry that they have . . . "how fleeting are the days of childhood, like sand slipping through an hour glass" (my paraphrase of a quote from Bert in Mary Poppins).

5934 Cornell Drive was a blessing from God that served us well.