The day after driving from Louisville to Texas I bumped my knee and fell to the floor sobbing.
Granted, I did bump it very hard and there is already a bruise, but I have a feeling the tears were not about the bump.
I barely slept the night before, waiting for my daughter to wake up crying in the night, sweating through my clothes and not knowing where I was.
I never sleep well the first night away from home.
Then I woke up to a very needy and moody preschooler, who was ready for the day long before the sun. And despite this wake up call, I was still managing to run late for our new preschool appointment. It is twenty degrees warmer here than the home we left and thus I have nothing to wear... nothing that isn't packed in random, unlabeled bags and rashly packed boxes.
So, it was sorting through just such a bag or box that I managed to totally abuse my knee and fall into sobs.
Up to the day of our departure I shed nary a tear. I was happy, excited about our new journey. I was confident each of my amazing friends would stay in touch and continue our friendship (and still hope). I was amazed at the opportunities already being presented for us to meet people and get SJ into school. I was too busy to bother with tears. It was obviously the Lord!
However, packing up our truck on that gray day was more sorrow-filled than I was ready for. But even then, in the hustle and bustle I only shed a few quick tears and then was forced to carry on. So, bumping that dreadfully boney knee was my first chance to let the flood gates open.
In those five minutes of tears I mourned not seeing my fellow mom friend every day as we take our daughters to the same quirky preschool class. I mourned our fabulous fridays filled with other moms and their kids and the amazing fall weather of Louisville. I mourned my home with my kitchen and my room and my stuff organized my way. I mourned our amazing community church where we had been served and served.
Then I got up, changed clothes...again, and headed out the door to begin our life for the next two months. Our life in-between two worlds. That weird blank page after the last page of your favorite novel that is between you and your next story.
Despite all the bruises, I am actually relieved to cry and let it out and admit that there is sorrow amidst the joy and excitement. I am praying we fill this blank page with meaning and memories and that there will not be a single page wasted.