The house is sold. It is finished. And in the end, after all the other emotions had done their work, what I am left with is gratitude. I am grateful God gave me such a beautiful house in which to spend my 30s, raise my young children, and grow into more of the person He wants me to be. I’m grateful for every time that He met with me there—during peaceful early-morning quiet times, over frantic, middle-of-the-night pleas to please make this baby stop crying or coughing or throwing up, on long runs on the neighborhood trails.
No matter how many fingerprints covered the windows, how many dandelions grew in the yard, how many piles accumulated upon every horizontal surface, how nasty the baseboards got, or how much the basement wall slipped from the foundation—no matter how achingly long it took to find someone else who wanted to live there—I am grateful for each moment spent in that house.
We live in America where we have houses far beyond what we need or deserve. No matter what your house looks like tonight, please just be grateful.
