Monday, July 07, 2008

Buelah Land

I'm consumed with moving. Totally. Boxes, bags, furniture, a little of this and that spread over the old house and the new. I can't find my shoes, my favorite bra, or my Advil. It's a nightmare. How many times have I moved? Can't count at the moment, but this is bar far, the most unorganized move. There are issues to warrant that, but I'm trying to get it together. You'd think I'd have this down pat by now. No such thing.

Seven years of boxes and furniture have been collecting in Mike's mom's attic for this move. I can't even remember what's in them. I have to call the garbage man, cable guy, and buy a riding lawn mower this week. There's painting to be done. A new kitchen needs set up with everything from a coffee pot to groceries. I need to decide - do I want sage green in my living room or robins egg blue? My list is as long as both legs. Exciting, exhilarating, and scary all at the same time, this move into the house of my dreams is yes, all consuming.

I wish I could find more than an hour to sit and do what I do best ... write. But I have a new office to furnish. That motivates me to get it all done. My poor husband is working long hours, we both fall into bed each night ... exhausted. But deep in the back of my mind, I'm working on a new story that's developed from all this. I've got the title, the characters, and the message. Beulah Land. It's a metaphor for Heaven. It's also the name of my protagonist. A rough-edged woman, with a soft and doughy heart for her dog, a lost love, and an old house. Haunted by a confederate soldier. The words, Beulah Land, struck me recently as I walked over the property. I looked up the scripture.

"Thou shalt no more be termed Forsaken; neither shall thy land any more be termed Desolate: but thou shalt be called Hephzibah, and thy land Beulah: for the Lord delighteth in thee, and thy land shall be married." (Isaiah 62:4)

I'm moving to my Beulah land. I hope it has lots of stories to tell. But right now I've got to get seven years of ... whatever is in those boxes moved to the house, find my shoes, my bottle of Advil, and Lord help me ... my bra.

Blessings to you and yours.

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