'Those' Days

It's strange how a building can hold so much significance.  Memories.  Emotions.  Maybe it's not that way for everyone.  Maybe I'm among the minority of people who have strong emotional ties to a giant piece of concrete.  :-)

The church we attend is in the process of moving to a different location.  We've been in our current location for over 6 years (I think??), and I have so many memories there.

Memories with our good friends, Jeremy and Gina, who are now in Japan.  Jeremy was the pastor for... well, I don't remember how long - longer than 6 years.  He baptized Levi, Missy, and Seth in that building.  Long chats with Gina in that building.  Piano lessons with their son, Josiah, there.

I have memories with the band and all of its former and current members.  Cutting up with them, bossing them all around, pointing out who was out of tune.  Memories of our babies sitting in my lap while I was behind the piano during band practice.

I have memories of worshipping there.  Worshipping well, and struggling to worship.

The last Sunday that I can remember in any detail in that building is September 30, 2012.  The day I was admitted to the hospital.  I remember what time we arrived at church, where we sat, who we sat with (Jeremy and Gina - it was their last Sunday at our church before leaving for Japan), a couple of the songs we sang, the luncheon after church.  And I remember how easily I cried throughout the service - because I strongly suspected my water had started leaking, and I was so afraid of what that meant for Elliana.

Our church is moving, and it's been really hard.  It's another goodbye.  Even though it's just a building.    We have to be completely moved out by the end of this month - next week.  So this morning, I went over to our church to go through all of the 'music stuff'.  What started out as one task turned into something much bigger - much more packing up and tearing down than I originally intended, and more than a few tears.  (Which is sort of embarrassing to admit - I cried over a building.  Sometimes, I exhaust myself.)

My poor sister bore the brunt of my meltdown on my way home this afternoon.  She called just to say 'hi', and I tried my best to sound 'normal', but that lasted all of like, 5 seconds.  Then I was a bucket of tears, trying to explain why I was crying - that I had to go pack up all of our music, and it was just hard.

I feel like this makes no sense.  But it makes sense to me.  That building is where so many significant things happened.  It's the last place I have memories with Jeremy and Gina before Elliana's birth, death, funeral, and their move to Japan.  It's the last place my Elliana was alive and kicking before our week in the hospital together.  It's the last place that life resembled something somewhat close to normal (even though nothing was normal during those last 3 months I carried Elliana) before my daughter died.

I've had to say 'goodbye' to Elliana.  I've had to say 'goodbye' to Jeremy and Gina when they left for Japan.  Leaving this building feels like another big 'goodbye'.

This day has turned into one of 'those' days.  The ones where motivation is gone, tears come easily, my house gets neglected, and I snap at the kids too quickly.  And even Chris Tomlin's music falls on deaf ears.