Sunday, our day of rest. I feel like I'm living in a children's book. Since Thursday I have traveled to Nashville, posed in front of a U-Haul, ridden or driven with Mikkee across two states, into the night and alongside the sunrise, through one (small) snow storm (big enough for this Southern Mouse), and into D.C. Movers unloaded her belongings while we scavenged out lunch and Target. Today we rest - in Ikea, maybe a Smithsonian, then a restaurant to warm and restore us. Tomorrow I will fly home, my adventure complete, hers beginning. Tomorrow I will step off the airplane and hold my babies, talk about the Big Big planes landing and taking off. For today, I am here, doing this.
I called my mom yesterday to tell her we'd made it, and she remarked, "You and Mikkee are two of a kind." She meant nobody else would want to do what we did this weekend. But I can't remember the last time I had so much fun. My sense of adventure stirred, my tolerance for cold growing, and I'm ready to see the city. This is the day the Lord has made, and I will rejoice and be glad in it.