Never easy.

I've taken down two wall hangings this week. One of them is a huge orangey-red Celtic knot, faded from washing after it got all dirty and wet when the ceiling caved in. It happened a couple of years ago, and was a direct result of water pouring through the ceiling of our old place, as upstairs pipes burst during a 50 degree warm snap. At this apartment, it hung above the antique mirror from my Omi that we set above our bed like a headboard. Now the wall is white and there is a gray crack running up from the floor that someone patched once upon a time.

The other hanging I took down is the vintage British flag that hung above the computer. Next time you see one, look to see how the stripes are uneven. The red against white is shifted to the counter-clockwise side. Having one in the house, you notice things like that .Jones's parents brought it back from England in the 70s, and she gave it to us when she moved in with Eric, what with being married and all. As I took it down, I wondered why we hang it. I was careful to have Jill sew on some loops to the upper corners so we didn't have to punch holes in it. Something about respect. I wonder if we should do something to make it an art piece, rather than just a massive hanging reminder of the existence of another country; I mean, we are no great anglophiles. Maybe we should paint "Jesus is bigger" on it, and get an American flag, and do the same. Hang them on opposite walls. I doubt that will happen, true as it may be. BUt it's fun to think about it.

The wall is empty where the flag used to be, too, and you can see the boarded up door that leads to the stairs to the neighbor's place above us. There are holes in the wall, where we miscalculated the height of nails. Apparently, we've covered a lot of imperfections with decorations.

The bookshelves that cover the window in the computer room so Jill wasn't as cold when she was studying French this winter are also empty, except for a couple of straggling knick-knacks and our copy of the board game Dominion.

See, we are moving.

On Sunday afternoons, before church, our friends stop in to drop off food for after, or sit on our couch and talk. They park in our driveway, and if you've been to Jacob's Well, directions are easy. You can see the building from our kitchen window. One of the biggest reasons we moved here was to be close to that building -- brick, with Scopes-era crenelations. Sometimes, late at night, Shayne is sneaking in for late night pastor stuff, and I am taking out the trash, and when I call out to him, maybe he thinks it's God saying hello. When I'm hanging out with the youth upstairs Sunday mornings, and there is a book I want to loan one of them, or we are done early, and I want to grab a game to play, it's a quick walk back, hardly knew I was gone. We jokingly named our wi-fi network The Rectory. After church, I invite someone over. "It's right there," I say. "Come have tacos. Play a game or have a good talk." And they do.

All of this is a matter of convenience, I realize. But it has been a beneficial convenience. I've seen life spring up here and there like the surprise lilies are just now pushing up in the back yard. Lots of friendships deepened over "Come on over." I am going to miss the convenience of living "right there."

But it's more than just an amazing location. This is where we had Jill's balloon party, when the balloons came down the next day, and wandered around the house like they had minds of their own. The doorway to our bedroom is where I last saw some friends of mine happy in their relationship before it went sour, talking about the election with another couple, two players on a debate team. This is the home of "The Noodle Game." This is the house I thought we'd only get pushed out of by our first kid. This is the bathroom I get allergic to in the spring, and the closet you get your clothes out of pre-shower in the winter, believe me. This is the basement we cleaned two trash bags of dust out of. This is the front porch we played late-summer-night Settlers on. I hid under one set of stairs and on another set in a game of sardines over Christmas. This is the house I came home to when I got laid off, and the house I couldn't get to sleep in when I didn't get that youth job I wanted so much. This is the house I've felt more at home in than any other.

Yeah, I am excited about the new place, new opportunities, new location, new layout, new roommates, 9/14ths rent, where the hangings will go up, etc, etc, amen. Really, really, I am. But I'll you all about that some other time.

For now, I'm going to miss this place. Really, really, I am.