Our Dear AGNES

I've been told I'm a writer. Sometimes I like to think of myself as one. But this time around its been Desiree and Dad doing all the expressing and writing while I simply sit back stunned.

Hello Mom,
I'm not praying to you or anything. Just to make that clear, it's just easier to pretend I'm talking to you. The difference between praying and talking to you is that in prayer I know that Jesus Christ will answer me back, talking to you I guess I'm having Him relay the message?

We visited the house last night (our home was foreclosed in May). I had a bad feeling about visiting because I knew it'd bring back memories and cause us to cry...but I suggested we go anyway. We went. The night was foggy, the lights gave off that sort of eery, creepy glow. We parked in front of the house, rested for awhile. I half-thought someone would peer out their window and think we were stalkers. The house looked nice, cleaner than it has been in years. We imagined opening the door, immediately hit by the warmth of the small lamp lights, the smell of beef with mushrooms or freshly baked chocolate chip cookies with walnuts. We kick off our shoes, I bring mine in my room and kick Desiree's shoes to be alined with the wall...or set hers on the shoe rack. We'd tell you how much fun we had at the Expect a Miracle dance workshop, how Sami danced and was the most adorable cutie ever and I actually sort of began to gain rhythm.

I told Desiree that if we still lived there I don't think I'd be able to stand it. So God really knows what he's doing when he told us to leave our comfort zone--our home. Be free. I just really wanted to bring up my thankfulness that you prayed and visited almost every apartment complex so we'd be together under one roof--a home of our own. It's true what Desiree said to me, a house is just a house. And I told her, yes. That's not home anymore--it's too clean.

The reason why we ache so much is because this is not our home. Our true home is where you are, we were not made to live here forever. But that doesn't mean live in the past--but it doesn't mean don't grieve either. It just means that...

Ah, in the end there will be joy.