Moving @!*@!

I tried to think of a creative title that would express my sentiments about moving. I couldn't. But I'll bet you get my meaning. On September 29, 2007, I packed up my little mustang convertible with everything I thought I would need for about 3 months worth of living in Texas. It was packed to the roof, including the trunk and passenger seat. I only took enough for three months because I was staying with friends, and truly expected that my husband would be transferred and our house would sell within that time frame.

6 months later, I moved from my friends' house (God bless their patience) into what our church fondly calls "the mission house." The house was donated to our church to use for 2 years as a furlough home for our foreign missionaries. I sure felt like one. The plan was that I would stay there for about 3 months (thinking that by then the summer would come and home buyers would start buying houses like crazy.) PS - Mike had not yet been transferred to Texas and it was March of 2008.

5 months later, (not three) our house had still not sold, so we rented an apartment on a short-term lease. It was August of 2008. The bottom of the housing market had fallen out and we began to see our home's value plummet. But at least Mike finally moved to Texas and we could live together again!

It is now March of 2009. Our short term lease has expired (thank God, because I am way too old to hear people "doing it" all night long in the apartment above me). Our home is currently listed at over $49K less than we paid for it. At this point, we are just hoping to walk away with enough to pay off our mortgage.

But we have been blessed with an awesome place to live at least for a year, rent free. We just have to do some maintenance around the house and pay the bills. The owners were going to sell this house, but with the market the way it is, they just decided to "fix it up" (enter us) and sell it later.

All that to say, I have moved 4 times in 18 months. I'm pretty sick of packing and unpacking. And, everytime I move, I seem to take more with me than I had the time before. How does that happen? And as depressed as this post might sound, I am actually not depressed at all, just sick of packing and unpacking. I do know and trust that God has a plan here. So I am hopeful for the outcome, and would seriously love it if it happened soon. Hey God, are you up there, it's me, Carol?

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