My eyes drifted to the very back. There is a part of the fence I can’t see from where I scrub the dishes.
They run wild out there. Sometimes their energy takes over and they stumble out like puppies tripping over themselves trying to get to the good stuff.
Sometimes I send them out… those times that my own energy just can not keep up. Those times I want peace with soapy running water. Just my dishes, me, and the kitchen sink. Strange, it’s actually one of my favorite spots in the kitchen. The sink.
This sink has washed dishes of 1000’s of meals. This sink has rinsed boo-boos clean. This sink has bathed babies, caught tears, and one too many times was readily available when morning sickness (in truth, all day sickness) couldn’t wait one. more. second.
This sink has been my big screen to the world of my young ones. The secret garden of their youth.
I have had many conversations at the sink here. Phone pinned to my shoulder, scrubbing circles over the parts of the pot already clean. Scrubbing circles, listening to the voice on the other end. Wanting to scrub away the pain, the hurt, the sorrow, the fear and uncertainty, the doubt, the shame… just all of it… from so many voices I have loved over the years at this sink.
The voices of my parents have become gravelled… grown quieter. Eight years is a long time when you are in your 80’s. Eight years is a long time when you are 8. Eight years is a long time… and a blink. My eyes wander to my little girl. She is 8. Just a baby when we came here. Eight years is a long time when 8 years is all you know. And it is just a blink.
The voices of my friends have risen and fallen at this sink… just like the laughter… and the tears.
The cherries… they hang from this window to the backyard. I put them up there 8 years ago. I had no idea then.
She gave them to me when I left home for the first time. The place I grew up. She gave them to me, gift-wrapped with a bow in the parking lot on a sweltering South Carolina summer night. That was a long time ago. I had no idea then… she would be gone 12 years later.
A gift, you know, to have no idea.
This life as a military wife has kept me in this place for a long time. It’s unusual to stay in one place for this long. Ten years in one place and eight in this home. This gift to watch our six little ones grow from flailing to crawling to sprinting legs that fly past mama.
My eyes drifted to the very back.
Just over the hill the yard slopes into woods… just out of sight.
I pulled on the rain boots. The ones covered with hearts. I get tired of the boring. The black boots. I found boots covered in hearts. It’s on the rainy days that we sometimes need a few more hearts.
It was actually sunny, but the boots would be just right for the lurking poison ivy. The stuff that creeps and crawls and licks at our heels. Only later do we know that it has touched us. The damage can sometimes show up much later. Sometimes the things that touch us, the ones that seem so benign at the time… they show the damage much later. Yes, the boots covered in hearts… they would do the trick.
I had to go back there. The big old oak tree. The woods, the peace, the quiet.
There is a trail through the back of our yard. The trail itself has been long swallowed by brush and trees and time. The tree line is what remains. You can see the line of trees stretch beyond sight. The trail was worn thin in its heyday. George Washington rode this old road. From his capitol home to the harbor city. Years and years and we have no idea. The years… a blink.
It was the wind that day that caught me. The kind of wind that whispers and names itself wild. Just the sound of wind as the leaves turned belly up in anticipation of quenched thirst.
Eyes closed, I just stood and felt the wind.
This wild wind, blowing in all directions. The whisper…
It’s all going to change.
You just can’t capture a moment. I tried to capture this wind, but on the screen it just stood still. The beauty is in the motion… and we just can’t capture the motion. All we can do is move. Be still… listen… and move.
I found my way to the bench. A small clearing with traces of marshmallows melted and sticks charred. I’ve watched from my kitchen sink countless time… I wonder if I forgot to come out here… I wonder if I forgot to move… one too many times.
The sound of squeals woven through the blowing breeze on this day. This wind of change blowing His holy purpose through our comfortable secret garden.
The plans we make, the routines that keep us flowing in forward motion, the secret gardens where we hide from the world. This garden where we have been planted for a decade… where we bloomed into something entirely new. From five to eight of us. From blindness to sight. From stillness to motion. From doubt to devotion. From fear to faith.
I just don’t know. I have no idea. This one moment in time to the next burst of wind. Unpredictable.
With each gust, this crescendo of hope. This hope that His holy purposes cast our doubts to the wind.
I have no idea where this will take us.
The one thought in my mind… the whispers growing louder… my sight growing clearer… it’s a promise. The number he flashes before me over and over. This number… He has reminded me to pay attention to Him again and again. He has a way with all of us… if we would just pay attention.
It’s 3:33 pm.
I smile.
I hear You.
I know it’s time to move. To leave this place where our roots have grown stronger.
It’s time to move into the plan of His choosing.
I know this. This wind of change is the one worth riding. This wind that whispers, that beckons, that commands… this wind is the breath of Life.
The breath of life that brings me to leave the secret garden…
and the kitchen sink.
Jeremiah 33:3
Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.
Oh Karin, moving is hard. I did it several times when I was young, but I saw how God used those moves to protect me (in certain ways) and prepare me. If I could get another “pr-” word in there, I could have a sermon, couldn’t I?
Praying for you and your family during this transition. I just realized something cool — even though you’re moving, you never have to leave your online neighborhood!
Hi Susan! I love the pr- alliteration 😉 . It is so hard to move and so good for us, all at the same time. I didn’t have my “online neighborhood” in all our moves in the past. A comfort! I’m so very grateful you are part of my neighborhood. Thanks, friend.
I, too, was a military wife of over 20 years. The longest place I ever lived was our first duty station: 5 years. Every move promoted spiritual growth for myself and for my family. It was difficult to see my twin daughters move onto their own paths as the rest of us (4) continued to travel the Air Force one. Just prior to retirement, our oldest son joined the military. We finished our journey with only our youngest, son in tow. To this day, because of those special friends, we stay connected to our past. Every move is the Lord’s way of connecting you to bigger purpose. God bless you.
Hi Shelley! Thank you for stopping here to encourage me today. We are also AF. It’s been such a long time since we have moved. We are excited to see where God takes us in this journey. My faith had grown tremendously since our last move and I know His plans are all for good. I am happy to meet you here and thank you and your family for your many years of service to our country. God bless you and your family and special prayers of protection for your newest military member of the family – your son.
Karin,
Loved your kitchen window and all the wonderful views you’ve had of your little ones. Loved the pictures you painted of the kitchen sink. What mother can’t remember bathing a little one right there. Beautiful piece. I was a military wife for 8 1/2 years with two tours in Germany. Moving was something I was used to, and it was strange. I liked the moves. I also am glad you have your online community to keep stability as you watch your home being packed up and you start to feel split up in two or more different places. We had some of our belongings in the states, some on the plane with us, and some waiting to be shipped. Talk about feeling scattered. And then when everything got in the same place I relaxed and felt at home. We’re funny beings aren’t we?
Hi Anne! Thank you for stopping here. It is a strange feeling and I have forgotten so much of it. I’ve been pretending to be a civilian for a few years now 🙂 (except for the deployments, of course). Funny thing about our “stuff.” This is the best way to clean house. At the same time, it’s been like ripping of many bandaids at once. I’ve had to purge so many baby belongings that I have hung on to. I dreaded doing this for years, but now have had to do it in a matter of weeks. There is a freedom in purging our things and holding on to what really matters. Thanks for the kind words and the encouragement that you always bring.
Congratulations on being able to purge things. That in itself is a big accomplishment. I’ll be praying for you with your move, but I’m confident that wherever you move you kids will feel secure. Your love for them is evident. Thanks for letting us peek into your life.
Anne, your words mean so much. Thank you.
This touched my heart deeply. You write beautifully and I can feel your angst AND trust. We’ve moved many times, all difficult. Bless you in your journey
Oh thank you, Christa. Moving is probably one of the hardest things and one of the best things. Funny how angst and trust can coexist sometimes. We are excited to see what lies ahead. Thanks for stopping here and for your kind words. God bless you.
oh my dear, dear friend. i just don’t have the words. like you said, this is only the beginning, right? this post is hands down my favorite, yet. don’t ever stop writing. love you. xo
I love you, my sister. This is a love note to you… it IS only the beginning. He’s got this. xo
Karin…good friend…I’m thinking of you and your amazing family on your new adventure. When you feel like returning to this side of the country and peeking into that wonderful backyard of yours, please know that you ALWAYS have a place to stay with me. Blessed are the people you are about to meet…their lives will become bigger and brighter with the love of the Madden’s in them! I’ll miss knowing you’re “just down the street”! Safe travels…
Heidi, my dear lifelong friend, how did I let the time go by without seeing you more? I just love you and am blessed to have known you for, wow, decades. Thank you, and know that my door is always open to you and your beautiful family. <3