I woke up last Monday morning to a new life.

I was in my bed, next to my husband, with a 38-week child inside, but everything else was new. And I felt new too.

The week before I had no idea. The week was a whirlwind.

What happened?

We moved into a house.

I've always called our apartment "our house", but it's always been an apartment. 

Our last week in our apartment I woke up on Monday, took Penny out to the bathroom, made breakfast, sat down at the table, looked at J and said, "I love our life."

We'd spent the weekend nesting. Well, I was nesting and James was helping. I guess guys don't nest?

Our house (see?) was freshly vacuumed, cleaned and organized. We were ready for the baby, as much as we could be. Our relationship has been so much fun, even in the eighth month of pregnancy we're laughing all the time. Our dog has been well behaved, we had great times with friends over the weekend and had more times with friends to come.

We had goals for the future and by no means thought we'd "made it" in our little 800 sq ft apartment. There were so many things we wanted for our lives. But in the last few months we haven't been able to help but look at each other and say, "This is a beautiful life." Sure, it could be more beautiful, but we have felt so much gratitude for what we have.

Then the call came, "We'd like you to consider moving into our house and helping us pay the mortgage while we get it ready to sell." J's mom. The house J grew up in. 4 bedrooms, a giant kitchen, a living and family room. A backyard. A garage. Their mortgage is miniscule compared to what we could find this for in today's hyped-up rental market.

So we considered. We discussed some boundaries. Wednesday night, late, she agreed. Saturday morning we were up at 4:30 packing and at 8PM Sunday we were settled.

Then I woke up last Monday morning. I walked out of our new bedroom, past our nursery, past my new office and into our living room. When I saw my couch, chairs, rug, bookshelf.

I realized this never "should have" happened. 

The words on my lips are continually, "Thank you, Jesus." It's like I can't help it, they just keep falling out from between my lips and my eyes get a little moist.

"Thank you, Jesus."

This kind of thing doesn't happen to me often. Incomprehensible blessings like these are so few, yet... I wonder. 

I'm so infrequently so content with the little I have. But I've been so genuinely content the last few months. 

I recently told J I'd be happy to stay another full year past our lease in our little one bedroom, even with the little Monkey (aka our baby). So many live with so much less and we would not only make it work, we'd probably enjoy it. And have some good stories to tell.

But this story is also amazing to tell.

It's one where friends and family come to support you even when they get absolutely nothing in return. They make a daunting situation involving a hundred and eighty pound, eight month pregnant woman simply disappear with their willingness to show up and offer a hand. And lots of muscles. And organizing abilities. 

I did almost nothing. I was forced to sit often. I was blessed beyond belief.

Two weeks ago I loved my life. The last week I've been appalled this life is mine and these friends are mine. I know I didn't do anything to deserve this and it's is simply my daily reminder now of all God's done for me, in spite of me. Because THAT is what unconditional love means and it's is what he gives. No matter what.

Thank you, dear friends, for loving us when it meant nothing in return, the same way God does.

I don't think I'll be the same again.