July 28-30, 1969
It was the end of July, and our days were crowded with moving tasks as we raced to beat the arrival of the moving van. An orderly transition was complicated by the fact that Mom and Dad’s new, smaller home needed redecorating… and kitchen remodeling… before they could settle in. Though we were gradually filling the rooms with boxes and furniture, nothing would be put in order until much later.
Mom kept her emotions at bay as she directed traffic in emptying the house. She hadn’t expected the sale to happen so fast, which is evident in her journal. Two months previously, on the day the house sold, she did some positive self-talking. “We know God led in this, every step of the way. With the added time, strength, and money, may it all be to His glory.”
She referred to selling “the house” but not “our home.” Mom believed the old adage, “Home is where the heart is,” and was hoping her heart would quickly catch up to her change of address. And then she wrote,
“Change and decay in all around we see.
Oh Thou who changeth not, abide with me (us).”
Mom knew she would eventually adjust to the change, but it was going to take time. Meanwhile, moving day was difficult. Ever the gregarious hostess, she had made friends with the new buyers before it was time to turn over the keys, and in the two months between contract-signing and possession, she’d invited them over repeatedly — for lemonade in the yard, for lunch in the dining room, to take measurements, and to snap pictures of what would soon be their home. I think Mom literally wanted to keep her foot in the door.
The day before the move, Mom had no time to make journal notes except to write, “Feverishly working!”
That evening our next-door-neighbors invited all of us over to their place for a nourishing dinner with all the trimmings, giving us a chance to reminisce about our happy history as neighbors. And when the moving van pulled in the next morning, we were ready.
All except Mom.
Movers loaded the truck all morning and then pulled away toward the smaller house on the other side of town. Most of us followed to supervise the move-in, but Mom and Dad lingered at the old place, ostensibly to clean. She wrote in her journal, “We depart, sorrowfully, 708 [our address], but with grateful hearts for the hours spent here. This, and all our homes, are gifts from God.”
Those of us at the new house thought it best to stay there till they arrived. While we waited, we made a brightly colored poster with a big, cheerful “WELCOME HOME!” on it. But when midnight came and they still hadn’t appeared, we began to worry.
“There is a time for every matter under heaven… a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2)
