We've moved out.
To make a long story short, Aimee and I found a great little apartment on the Westside. 2 bed, 1 1/4 bath in a 4-plex. Yes! Last Tuesday I saw a place on my way home. Within the hour I had seen the sign I had called the guy, viewed the apartment, and set up an appointment for A to see the place. Within 24 hours we had decided to move out, told the parentals, had an intervention, divided up the furniture, and assembled a moving team.
The process wasn't as easy and exciting as I thought it was going to be. Apparently you need money and more than just bedroom furniture to exist on your own. To add to that, moving out has been an emotional roller coaster. I have been waiting for this day since I moved home three years ago. On the other hand, Aimee has loved being in the safety of our home. She's always been like that. When she was in elementary school she cried when my parents sold their beat up Chevy. She still has the seat belt buckle she kept from that car.
She gets it from our dad. Our first night in the new place dad's good-bye hug seemed a bit tighter and I swear he was more emotional when we left their house for the last trip of the day. Although he was the one who encouraged us to move out, I know his heart was a bit sad that his two daughters had left the nest. It's that fine line between being the protective father and allowing his girls to grow up.
Aimee and I have the same perspective on the purpose of our home. We want it to be used for Jesus. We want it to be a safe place for people to come and be ministered to. Before we went to bed our first night we prayed that God would anoint our house and the two of us to use this place and stage in life to glorify His name.
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