packing my things . . .

I rummage through my room, trying to determine what I will need right away and what I can come back for later. Box after box is filled. My scrapbook, baby book, pictures, clothes, . . . gifts that I have received. Things I have saved - candles, cloth napkins - all of those things that I placed in my hope chest and told myself that "someday" I would need them to make a home for the man that I would love and marry.

"Luke, it just seems weird to think of leaving home. I am so excited . . . but I know that I am going to miss my family."

"Well Allison, you could always live at home after we are married." *playful punches and hugs*

So I was eating lunch with Jacob on the front porch and jokingly said, "Should I live at home after I get married so that I do not miss you coming into my room, waking me up, tickling my feet, and calling me 'Tony'?"

The silence was broken by Jacob. "Ali, the Bible says that you should move out." Ah, the wisdom of an eight year old. Precious little guy that I love to death.

These last few days have been strange. I no longer find myself in a hurry to go and run errands even though I should probably be more "on task." Instead I spend the extra time sitting in the kitchen, talking to my parents late into the night. I eat a meal with Jacob, or have him walk with me to the store. I give my big bro a few extra hugs, knowing that I am getting married and he will leave soon to go back to school . . . life is changing.

There is a sudden need to drink in every precious moment that I have so long taken for granted . . . and I wonder if I will also take for granted the love that Luke has for me, after I live with it for a while, day after day. Or will I learn and hold onto every moment, being overwhelmingly grateful for the place that God has led me?