I can’t believe I am writing. I would not even begin to know
how to do these last 4 days justice through words. I also don’t recall ever in
my life being this exhausted or sleep deprived. Those things in combo will
likely result in a garbled up combination of misprint and memory folly. To say
I am “out of sorts” would be a slap in the face of what I really am. I plan to
rectify that tonight with a Benadryl induced slumber for at least four consecutive
hours of sleep, which is long overdue. In the meantime, I've placed a want ad "Wanted: A slumber that actually slumbers."
We spent the entire last week taking items from Old to New
after work in our cars. So when the day of the move came, I thought it would be
a streamlined event of a few hours. It turned into an organized chaos of 13
hours with friends devoting too much time to our lives while lifting a sofa
that struggled to fit through the door. Having started at 8 that morning by
picking up the truck, we completed with the truck being turned back in after 2
a.m. For two people who live without clutter, we sure managed to have a lot of
furniture and boxes to be moved. And I am hopeful we have friends (and a
very devoted sister in law) that are still speaking to us! It's not lost on me that I am now too old to do this. But move day isn’t the culprit here, it was the 2 solid weeks of after midnight preparation prior that
catapulted me into dis-orbit. This isn’t that fog of frustration, irritation,
off balance that plagued me most of December, that has resolved, but rather a snow-ball effect of sleep deprivation
and tizzy of packing where there wasn’t a single moment of downtime to be found.
A 12+ hours moving day followed by another night spent without consecutive
hours of sleep simply sealed the deal. Not all sleep is sleep. And not all slumber is slumber. And still, now 2 days later, I have
barely even begun to unpack and still have yet to gain the prize of restorative sleep. My niece said our garage looks like an episode of “hoarders”.
Very well put. It does indeed.
So it came as no surprise to me when this morning I woke up
from my few hours of sleep (again!) to find myself very much not myself.
Despite this, I managed to shower, and dress (having gone to 4 different rooms
to find enough items to make an attire), and drive myself to the office and
find my desk where very quickly soon after, I lost it. How unfortunate for the coworker
who happened to walk into my cube to ask me how it was going. Her simple
gesture of kindness resulted in the water dam spilling open and the contents of
exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and overwhelming disorientation flow into a
heaping puddle of tears. I simply didn’t know up from down anymore and every
ounce of lost sleep spent moving a box was plastered on my now overly swollen
face. I immediately knew (and with her validation) I had to do something to
reset myself and that meant a very long winter slumber would have to be in my
very near future. I made the decision then and there that I would get through
this work day and then head home to ignore every unopened box. And I did just
that! Now I sit with computer in hand in the bed waiting for slumber to come. I
am hopeful that writing will clear this mind and then restful lengthy sleep
will follow...And I have no doubt this will be the exact same plan for my next 2, if not 3, nights. I am also hopeful that tomorrow …Paint colors will seem more calming,
work emails more easily deciphered, thoughts better regurgitated, groceries
less absent and take-out containers no more, sofas less overbearing, dining
rooms less compact, sub-floors more inviting, unopened boxes less hoarded, silverware
drawers less misplaced, dog smells less overbearing, and finally familiarity and sleep patterns restored (as I have never felt more disoriented than I do this week).
You guys have been asking me how I have been doing. I am simply
smack dab in the in middle of restoring normalcy. God’s prompting certainly doesn’t always result in smooth
sailing. A 12+ hour moving day proved that. But I know overtime it will bring
calm. Yesterday, we went back to the old house to clean up and then grab the
last few remaining items. As we walked back in to do a final check, Ron and I
turned to each other in a now empty hallway and recalled the memories had. This
home was the beginning of our marriage. This home softened the emotions
following the death of a parent. This home absorbed the choice of mastectomy. This
home delivered God capturing our hearts to live less of this world and more of
him. So much of our coupled life was lived out here. The new house will soon hold
its own stories. They are already starting. God brought us here, and He has not forgotten us. Now to see
where it all will go and how this next story will be told.
Isaiah
44:21 “Pay attention, O Jacob, for you
are my servant, O Israel. I, the Lord, made you,
and I will not forget you.
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