When the furniture starts disappearing and you still want to watch television, you learn to improvise.
Last year, I wrote about how God miraculously provided the exact apartment I had been wishing for, which also just happened to be the same apartment Gil and I lived in our first year of marriage.
We move out of #14 today.
In the midst of this crazy year, #14 has been a haven for us. A place where we could call home for this short time, a place where we could host people for dinner and have college students come over on Thursday nights and where Dad and Josiah could play hockey in the hallway (good thing the walls are getting painted).
We watched the trees change color in our neighborhood and we always greeted our West African mailman and we walked to the library and the thrift store every week with our rolley bag.
We had a huge enclosed area for the kids to play--unsupervised, most of the time. And there were three other families in the complex with kids our age. If you've ever lived with kids in an apartment, you know how significant this is.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places...