We moved out. The last cleaning supplies were tucked into the car, the vacuum stood by the dumpsters because there was no room in the car and the pod had already left. We'll get a new one for the new place.
"Does it bother you we're taking everything out of the house?" I asked Meg.
"Yeah," she said, and trotted over to the car, climbed into her seat, and snapped herself in.
We had hoped - expected - to have heard back from the new apartment by Monday, saying "It's yours! Come and move in!" ("We've fixed the lock and painted it for you" would have been nice, but I would have been plenty happy to have a lease.) That night we went up to stay with Tom and Sarah and their boys. Noon the next day rolled around, and we heard the lock was fixed, but agent still hadn't heard yea or nay from the landlord. So we drove up to visit Jonathan's family in New Jersey. And here we are mid-afternoon Thursday. I cried today.
Jonathan's got a good job lined up and can start as soon as we find a place. That's really a bigger miracle than a mere apartment. I've been feeling for a while like the verse for us is the same one Father Tim used in Out to Canaan - Abraham went out by faith to an inheritance he didn't know, because God is faithful. Richmond was good, and it's good to go, but we still don't know where exactly where.
Amusingly enough, the book I've got in the diaper bag right now is Agatha Christie's Destination Unknown. It couldn't be more appropriate if I'd tried!
