Moving, Margot, and Making Memories

A week ago, Thursday, Dennis and I flew in from New Brunswick after some great days with the Kingswood University students and faculty during their mission focus week. We hopped in our car, picked up Josh and Stella, and headed straight to Michigan. Six-o'clock the next morning Mike, Josh, Dennis and I drove to Grand Rapids, picked up a U-Haul truck, and then proceeded to Frontline Church where our personal belongings had been so graciously stored over the past four years. In less than two hours we had everything loaded–a bed, a dresser, lots of boxes filled with books, and sentimental pieces like my Grandma's cedar chest, a wooden high chair that I sat in, my great-grandfather's rocking chair, among other pieces that Dennis' Dad made for us over the years. Josh and Stella drove my car back to Indy, while Dennis and I hightailed it down the road to buy a new bed (dropped the old bed off at Mike and Joni's:), and then on to Chicago where we hit up IKEA for some living room furniture.

Saturday morning came with great moving weather and able-bodied help, thanks to Tim, Jason, Peter, Jim, and Terry (Jim and Terry Sprow are long-time friends from our years at Holland Central - never saw our paths crossing like this again). Chalk up two more hours and the truck was as empty as our condo was filled.

It was on move-in day, 9:00 a.m. to be precise, I was in the laundry room sorting through cleaning supplies when I heard an unfamiliar ding on my phone. It was different than my text message alert, so I pulled the phone out of my back pocket to see what the signal was all about. And then my heart skipped a beat. "Margot's Birthday - tomorrow." Oh, our sweet Margot. How fun it would have been to celebrate our move to downtown Indy with Margot's 2nd birthday.

I remember too well that day, March 24, now 2 years ago. A phone call in the middle of our Budapest night. Forty-five seconds to tell us that Kari fell and the doctors were about to take the baby out. We waited over two hours for the next phone call, awake, praying, wondering. We fully expected to hear of Margot's birth, but instead we heard, "We lost Margot." Overwhelmed with grief for our loss, and the awful heartache our kids were experiencing, we thought fast, called airlines, began packing, and left within hours for Pasadena.

Always wishing I could have held her. At least I have a picture. We had moments of tears throughout the day and into the next in the middle of unpacking.

On Sunday afternoon while unpacking a box of individually wrapped items, the paper unraveled to reveal the beaded hummingbird that fluttered in my kitchen window in Budapest. I was attracted to this little bird from the moment I laid eyes on it at Pier 1 way before our move to Budapest. It's actually a napkin ring. I only bought one, though I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it.

Somehow it made it to Budapest. I kept it in my desk drawer, and after Margot's death I knew the exact spot where this little bird was meant to be–next to her small picture hanging in my window. As I wrote a year and a half ago: It seemed so fitting for Margot. The smallest of birds, feathers shimmering like that of a prism. Each little twist and turn producing iridescent colors in the sunlight. Flirting with flowers, they're here and gone, only to return again with the flutter of their wings humming in mid-air. 

Margot flits in and out of our lives with sometimes surprising reminders of her existence in the womb and what could have been. Where could I put my hummingbird in our new home? I have two shelves above my kitchen sink. I had already placed some items on the shelves, one being a light blue water bottle I got from a restaurant in Spain. The napkin ring fit perfectly around the top of the bottle, and there was the perfect spot on the top shelf for my hummingbird, ever reminding me of our sweet Margot who was here and gone so quickly. 

Getting our new home settled was priority this past week. Unpacking one box after another. Organizing kitchen, bathrooms, closets, laundry room, and dresser drawers. Arranging furniture and books on shelves. Getting a feel for pictures on the wall. It's been fun to unpack things that remind us of Budapest, and to pull items out of boxes that we had forgotten about over the past four years. We already feel at home, though we still have a few boxes waiting to be unpacked.

Last night we had our Indy kids and grands over for Dennis' Mango Chicken dinner. Julie rode her bike over. Josh and Kari walked over with Stella and Leo in a double stroller. Leo sat in the wooden high chair that was mine. I pulled wooden puzzles and play dishes out of boxes for the kids to play with–toys that Josh and Julie remembered playing with. Stella was building "forts" behind my living room chairs before the evening was over. When it was time for everyone to head back home, Dennis and I walked with them half way to the local DQ, said our goodbyes, and then walked back home eating our blizzards.

It's a life I only dreamed of.