We have boxes everywhere in our living room. They are taking over every inch of space on our dining room table, couches, coffee table, and floor space. There is newprint paper in piles throughout the room. Bram is using the cardboard section of the newsprint box to color on while I pack things into boxes. Jonas just roams around pulling things off of chairs, out of boxes, all the while managing to steal crayons from his brother.
We don't own a lot that needs to be packed, but it still daunting. I have made the arrangements for the truck to pick up our things in order to be shipped and the other permanently stored while we are gone. I have scheduled the inspection of our Salvation Army owned home. I have made the plan for a company to come and clean our carpets and tile before we leave. I am exploring the options of participating in a seminar for missionary family preparation.
But I still do not know where we are moving...
It's difficult to look at your entire life, figure out how to place into a box, but have absolutely no idea where exactly it is going. The stress alone is enough to keep someone from sleeping, not to mention the emotional toll of the tension of just not knowing. Today I read through the story of Abraham and Sarai, when Abraham came home and said "We're moving. I don't know where, God said He'd lead us and that we'll know when we get there." Now I know how Sarai must have felt.