Whose story is it?

Whose story is it? 1Our dining room table is gone now. Tim sold it to a couple off Craigslist. When I came home from lunch with the girls, the house looked so empty. "Did you take a picture of it, by chance?" I asked him, wistfully.

I haven't written much about the process of selling our things because I almost don't know how to write about the magnitude of it. It's so much more than, "we sold our couch" or "we gave away a bag of clothes." Only recently has it begun to really sink in that we are letting go of EVERYTHING (except what we can fit in our RV).

It's as if I've been writing a story, typing away on my laptop every day for years, laboring to make each word exactly right. With each thing we let go, I erase a word - Lamps, Books, Fondue Pot, Pictures on the Wall, Fancy Health Insurance, Bathtub, Craft Closet, Direct-Deposit Paychecks, Big-Screen TV, Roth IRAs, Circle of Friends, Washer-and-Dryer, etc. Pretty soon, the document is blank - the story that *I* worked so hard to write is gone. I panic a little, fingers trembling, tears stinging my eyes.

Suddenly, His voice calms my scattered heart, "Will you let me write the story?"

Whose story is it? 2Four months ago, I never would have guessed that we would be here now. Selling everything we own to travel the country to give to others (and to learn from others).

But here we are, saying "yes" to a brand new story.

I suspect that it will exceed our wildest expectations.

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