We moved into our brand new house on Wednesday, just 4 days ago. We picked it out in the middle of May, and I felt the whole time like I was having another baby. We'd drive by at least 4 days a week to make sure something was happening. If time went by when nothing happened, I'd worry that it wasn't going to be done on time. I was constantly asking the doctor, I mean construction supervisor, questions about the progress. When was this supposed to be done? Why was that done that way? I'm sure he'll be glad to have his inbox back and no longer filled with emails from me. Seriously, it wasn't really that bad, but I was anxious more than a few times.
The day of delivery, of our new house, I was thrilled. It felt like Christmas. Our closing went smoothly, and we were handed the keys. We unloaded two U-Haul trucks full of boxes and furniture into the house. The rest of that day was spent buying a washer and dryer and the furniture we didn't have. So, Thursday was a day of unpacking. This is when the postpartum depression started to sink in. I wanted to enjoy my new home, but I was tasked with unpacking boxes and finding a place for everything where no place yet existed. Screws for shelves cannot be found. A power cord for a computer monitor could not be found (it finally was). I cannot figure out how I packed our house in Canonsburg. I must have been excited to leave. All I know is that everything will eventually be found because EVERY box needs to be emptied.
Yesterday, I drove to the post office which is 25 minutes away from our house. Normal post offices don't exist with frequency here in northern Florida. You can buy stamps at the grocery store. You can send your boxes and pay for shipping at the UPS Store and at many different gas stations. I must be old-fashioned because I like to go to the post office where I work with a postal worker, not someone who owns a gas station, when I need to take care of my outgoing mail. Anyway, I went to the post office to get our mail key. (Our neighborhood has a centralized mail kiosk at the entrance to the plan.) When I went there, the postman couldn't find the keys for our street. He called someone who said our HOA had the keys for our street. Does that make sense to you? It didn't to me either, but I figured he must know. I got in the car and called the HOA who said they didn't know where my keys were. Needless to say, I grew extremely frustrated, more frustrated than I should have. Two hours later I received a call from the HOA stating that my mail keys were at the post office. Really? When I was there earlier I thought about asking the postman to look again for the keys, but he probably would have been insulted. John and I had errands to run after he got home from work, so we went back to the post office and got our keys. The postman I had worked with earlier noticed me when I walked in and, though he was working with someone else and there were five other people standing in line, he did not make me wait for my keys. He was extremely apologetic. I couldn't be mad at him. We got our mail key and, on the way home, our mail. Yes, after only three days, we had a stack of mail.
So, as I sit here peacefully on this no-longer-foggy morning in Florida looking out the back door in my bedroom to the magnolia tree in our backyard, I am thankful for the new addition to our family. I am thankful that God made me feel like I was leaving home last November when we drove back to PA from Disney. I am thankful that He has orchestrated everything and has put us here in this gorgeous house, complete with mail key. LOL. We will be receiving our washer and dryer and additional furniture this next week. We will put things on the walls, and we will finish emptying our boxes; and our house will be a home. Hopefully a home where people feel welcome, a home full of love and blessings from God so we can, in turn, bless others.
