Two storage pods plunked down on the driveway causing a serious wondering from Goldi. “What is that?” she asked.

“Two big boxes. We’re saying  “Goodbye” to some things for awhile so that our house looks ready for someone else to live here.”

Goldi looked into the distance .  The sound of the words “Someone else will live here” seemed to create shadows of what might be. I saw them in the distance too.

Gradually things vanished from the house and Goldi  made inquiries.   “Where’s my stuffed dog?” she asked. “Where’s that purple chair?  “Is my doll in that big box?” Home looked empty as our fingerprints of living were removed all around.

Goldi kept home by pretending  and storytelling in her room. She rode her bike around the neighborhood.  She jumped when she saw someone come up the front walk. She made spill over splashes in the bathtub. She hung her backpack on a hanger in the closet.  She nestled down in her pink flower bed and slept.  She threw her sock and shoes in the hallway and ran around  barefoot.

She spent time in a home more permanent- her grandparents house.  There she could make music with her grandpa in the big room of great acoustics. She explored the ponds. She lay her head on the comfy couch and rested.  She threw off her socks and shoes in the mudroom and ran around barefoot.

As we readied our home for someone else’s life, we began to “live” in a home that was still in the making. The first several visits to our house under construction,  came with protest.

“This is not my home!”  Goldi  screamed each time we went the “wrong way” home.  My images of  life in our “dream house” had spots of worry and fret.

“Look , this is where we’ll eat as a family.” I announced one day as we walked into our skeletal like kitchen.

The well thought over  island was just newly constructed. Dust  and builder slop decorated everything.  Despite protest, promises of picnic, play, and props ( toys to bring along)  finally coaxed her to cooperate.

“Let’s eat like we live here. ” I said unpacking the fast food picnic. But with no chairs,  lighting  or attractive surface, our family dinner table looked more like a tool shed.

Quickly I grabbed a small forgotten ladder,  and turned over a big cardboard box. Immediate seats began a transformation to a home sweet home feel.  Hungrily I dove into my cheeseburger. Goldi’s brother chose the cardboard box and bit into his and Goldi, without prompt or persuasion, tore off her socks and shoes,  sat on the ladder. and nibbled on a chicken nugget.

While I wiped the picnic crumbs, Goldi stood and announced “Time to play Hide and Seek! ”

And she began to run around the house barefoot.

Months later, we’ve moved to our newly built home. We’ve packed up and brought everything in the world with us-including  memories of our first home as a family.  Goldi makes big splashes in the tub. She stories and pretends with  her dolls. She rides her bike all the way to the grocery store.  She hangs her backpack and hat on a hook in her very own locker. She nestles down on her pillow in her painted pink room.  She throws off her shoes and socks and runs around barefoot.

We plan to live here and enjoy. All the while knowing this home too is only temporary.  For there is another being prepared for us more glorious than a blue print of dreams. Our Eternal Home awaits us someday as our Eternal Family does too.  And I imagine when Goldi gets there, she will throw off her shoes and socks and run around barefoot. She won’t put on shoes or socks again.  Home Sweet Home at last.

“Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”  Luke 9:58