166 Addie Way. It was January 2007 when I first laid eyes on the property. The house I was shown back then looked a lot different from the house I just left, but I fell in love. It was more than just the house I liked, it was the dream I was envisioning. A house. A home. A family. And so an offer was made.
It was the very same day when I left the realtor's office and drove myself to the doctor's office only to be told having children naturally/normally wouldn't be possible. I found myself sitting in the driveway of 166 Addie Way staring up at blank windows that housed empty rooms where I had dreamed of children one day growing up. "Why God? If you're not going to give me children to fill up this house, then I don't want the house at all!"
Just a few days later the offer was accepted and the house would be called "home."
It was not an easy road of adoption, but in June 2008 Elijah Riley would be brought home to that address. Those same windows I had once stared at from the outside were now the windows where I was closing the blinds from the inside. That room had become his nursery.
April 29, 2011, a house fire destroyed that residence and thus began a 6 month rebuild process. The thing I've learned about building a house is it's much like building a home. Every single board nailed into place, every piece of drywall hung, every fixture that must be selected, every decision that must be made...it's all hard work, and yet each piece and part affects the greater whole that is being constructed. It all plays a role in the process of building. It's stressful. Difficult. Frustrating. Complicated. Tiresome. Overwhelming. And rewarding. Because the finished product bears the marks of all the time invested and decisions made. The outcome was not my own handiwork, but in large part it was my vision.
I moved into the new house in November 2011 and it was my home until February 2013. I didn't hang any pictures - I knew I wouldn't be there forever. But I did host plenty of family gatherings, made lots of lasting memories, and even endured the heckling and cackling of a psychotic neighbor. What I've also learned is a house isn't necessarily a home. Wood and nails, paint and fixtures don't make dreams come true. There were good times...and bad...but as I looked in the rearview mirror to say goodbye to the house that stands at 166 Addie Way, I was reminded to keep my eyes ahead.
His promise to me is for a hopeful future. I haven't yet opened the next door. I'm what they say "standing in the hallway" waiting for God's direction. I'm not exactly sure which door to open - or which one might open for me. I'm in transition - in the "in between." It can be a challenge in and of itself. For almost 3 years now I've lived in a state of flux which has caused my spirit to feel completely unsettled at times. For this girl who needs order and organization, I'm at times coming unglued at the thought that my stuff is literally residing in 4 places. What's my new address? Pick one! I've got stuff stored everywhere. (It's probably best we don't arrange a visit any time soon - unless you're inviting me over to YOUR place.)
I've been forced to face the reality that sometimes dreams change - just like your address. Sometimes life is lived in the hallways, where transition is inevitable and the next step remains unknown. I may not be unpacking here, but I've decided to settle in for awhile until He moves me.