Monday, August 20, 2012

Boxes and Barometers

Boxes are all over my life.  My house smells like cardboard.  The front porch is covered in empty ones, the trash bins are full of scraps of them and the sanitation workers probably don't think much of us after last Thursday's trash retrieval.  It's really a shame I have no toddlers.  This would be a better than Disney World type experience for a few cool two year olds!

A barometer is a scientific instrument used in meteorology to measure atmospheric pressure. Pressure tendency can forecast short term changes in the weather.

I've been away from Press Pause for the week, as my family and I began our transition from our home in Covington, Georgia to Columbus, Georgia.

  • This is a crazy time.
  • This is an exciting time.
  • This is a sad time.
  • We are saying hello.
  • We are saying goodbye.
  • We are feeling loved and cared for on both ends of this craziness, and we are very thankful.
My mind is drifting along in all sorts of places - from times we've shared with our loves in Covington and the faces of my kids as little children in our old house, to yet un-lived moments in our future in our new house.  (Just to confuse things a bit, our old house was new and our new house is old.)

So, you ask, where is she going with this?

Well, I figured that boxes and barometers was a good way to come back into the blog.  Boxes and barometers are two of the realities in my life right now.  I am surrounded by boxes - the physical, cardboard kind and the loads of our lives we are bringing with us.  

And barometers?  Well, it's a nice word that starts with a 'B' and it seems a good description of what my mind has been doing.  The pressure changes for me with each new minute, for sure; but more importantly, I find my brain looking for predictions, forecasts of what's to come.  Most are good.  Some are funny.  Others seem like a big pain in the neck.  I'm choosing, though, to read the barometer of this new life with rose-colored glasses.  It keeps the pressure down.

(Remember the new house is an old one.)  The light in the downstairs bathroom will not turn off?  That's okay, it's a prediction of the light and sunny days ahead.

The bathtub in one bathroom and the shower in another turn on from time to time and flow with water? That's a sign of plenty, of having enough of what we need to see us through.

The mysterious light switch on the back wall of the den actually controls the lights in the playhouse and the garage?  That's not weird, it's a sign that we will find our way - that even winding trails lead to good.

The dryer left with the house stops working?  That's a sign that we should never again do laundry.  (I haven't completely fleshed out this one.)

The neighbors show up within five minutes of our arrival to ask if we have towels and adult beverages?  That's a sign of being in good hands and that there will be fun times ahead.

Friends show up at the front door and at the back.  They walk over, drive up or follow their dog to our house.  They arrive with flowers, directions, dinner, phone numbers and laughs?  That's a sign that good people are everywhere and that everything will be okay.

The boxes are slowly making their exit.  The barometer readings are good.  Pressure is down at the moment.  Everywhere I look, I see little signs - tiny windows into the future.  

I just looked up at this old building facade and my eyes went right to the heart.  It's a mistake, I know, but I choose to see it as a sign of love to come.  That's how I'm reading my barometer.

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