Change and Unexpected Emotions

I tried again yesterday. Two hours into cleaning and my emotions overwhelmed me. Even though I had a system and boxes to organize everything, the emotions—both sweet and difficult—flooded my soul like a broken dam.

Living Room Memories

There was the train table I built for my oldest. If I had a dollar for every hour he drove his wooden trains on those tracks, I’d be a millionaire. On the edge of the table was our version of Tidmouth Shed. We found it at a secondhand store and worked on it in the woodshed, but we made our five-year-old’s Christmas magical that year.

Next, I looked at the bar I built to eat and play at. The boys always had their toys scattered across the top; so much so that there was barely room to eat up there most nights. I can still see each of the boys learning to climb the stools and then sitting there for hours with Legos or Play Doh. Oh, and don’t forget the time my oldest climbed on the stool, snuck cake in the middle of the night, and we woke up to pinch marks in the cake, and a little boy covered in chocolate!

As I looked toward the couch, I could still see Daniel, arms thrown in the air, walking across the living room for the first time, and then doing it the second time at a full run! Once he got those feet under him, he earned the nickname Baby Godzilla. He grabbed everything his brother had, ran, and threw it, all with his hands up in the air while he growled like a monster.

Dinosaur fights. Car races. Tractor pulls. Stuffed animal wrestling. Transformer manipulation. Movie nights. Writing days. Sick times. Morning snuggles. And cold days wrapped up in blankets. All this happened on that couch. In that living room.

Little Boy Bedroom Memories

Then I entered their old bedroom. I remembered converting it from junk room to nursery. Assembling the crib. Making the bed for the first time. Then Carter finally arrived, and we didn’t have a clue what to do with a baby. But he survived and changed our world forever.

In the corner, I spotted the rocker glider. It was the nursing chair for both boys. The chair where I sat when I read stories. Or when I needed to be close, but not too close on a scary night. So many midnight prayers for strength, health, and clarity were prayed in that chair. And many more hugs and “hold me’s” happened there, too

I sat in the chair and looked at the borrowed bunkbed. Most nights Daniel conned Carter into sleeping with him on the bottom bunk because he was scared. Often I’d stand at the door and listen to them have “animal talks” or make up silly stories. Sometimes Carter read to Daniel, and then once Daniel learned to read, they took turns memorizing lines from books and acting them out.

And then there was the changing table. I learned quickly that little boys needed a washcloth on hand to throw over the top of them once the diaper came off or they’d spray me and everything around. Sometimes it seemed that all I did was nurse and change diapers.

Memories of the Struggle

The seasons of struggle flashed through my mind. While I loved my boys when they were babies, having infants was hard. Sleepless nights. Spit up at inopportune times. Blowouts in public when I had forgotten the diaper bag. Projectile vomiting all over the bedroom or living room.

But then there were other struggles. Depression. Isolation. Doubting my purpose. Wondering if I was a good mother. Questioning if I’d made the right decision quitting my full-time job. Lack of self-worth. And self-care.

Then I recalled my bad decisions. Years of addiction before children. Selfish choices. The memories flashed before me like a movie. And I felt defeated.

As I walked out of the trailer, overwhelmed by the torrential downpour of emotions, I tried to get a handle on my thoughts. A lot has happened in seventeen years. I went from broken to whole, barren to mother of two, teacher to writer, and lazy to building a new home. Some of the best memories in my life happened in that little house. But so did some of the worst.

Change is hard. I’ve been so focused on finishing our new house that I failed to factor in all the emotions attached to the old one. I will continue working, a mouthful at a time, for several more weeks. And then we will haul it away, and the trailer will be gone forever. The only home my boys ever knew. Until this one.

Now What?

I find myself at an emotional impasse today. Part of me wants to wallow in the sad emotions and hang onto guilt for wasted years and bad decisions. Then there is a piece that longs for the old, happy times when the kids were little. Everybody told me it went by too fast and gosh were they right.

But then there is the part that is grateful for a fresh start. New routines. Better discipline. More cleanliness. Intentional time. Family moments. Seeking God. Trusting deeply. Growing mightily.

Our past propelled us into our present and allowed us to step into this new season we have entered. While the waters are unchartered, I know with God at the helm, the trip ahead will be worth it. This house will be where my kids turn into teenagers (picture Kevin’s scream face from Home Alone), introduce us to their future spouses, and one day bring their grandchildren. This house will be filled with joy and laughter as friends and family visit regularly. And this will be the house where I keep chasing this writing dream of mine.

New seasons of memories are just ahead. And I all I know to do is heed the words of Paul in Philippians 3:13-14 (ESV), “Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

 

Copyright Christy Bass Adams, February 2023

All images from Canva