Our bags are packed . . .

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All our stuff is packed, and tomorrow we leave our Canton house.  This house has been good to us.

With everything packed up, I can see all the knicks and scratches on the walls, and I know the story of every scratch. I can see the tiny holes in the closet and the one big gigantic hole in one closet where Jake had watched a little little too much HGTV with me and got a CRAZY idea about plowing through the closet under the stairs to build something. Hilarious. There may or may not still be pink duct tape over that hole.

I can see all the people who have walked through this door and made this a home with us.

When we bought this house, I sat down on the hearth and prayed that God would make this a home with a wide and generous heart, and that we could host and offer welcome to all kinds of folks. We sure did. Friends, church folks, family. Each of my siblings lived with us for one time or another; college friends would call and ask to sleep over even when we hadn’t spoken in several years. Such good times.

So many memories are tied up in this little house. Love and laughs. Bringing home our baby boy. His first steps were over there in front of the fireplace.

It’s all packed up. We know for sure that home is where our family is, and that our family is headed to a new adventure. And we are glad. But it still took my breath away to see this today.

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In the end, I guess that’s just right. Pack away all the stuff, and what you see left is faith, hope and love. We leave here with the gift of bigger faith, tremendous love and so much hope. Our friends here have gifted us with seven years worth of faith, hope and love. For that, we have full and grateful hearts. Heritage folks,  you sang your goodbye on Sunday and our hearts were so full: “Until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of his hand.”  We love you. We love that you have been as much home for us as these walls here.

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