I’m sitting here on the verge of feeling overwhelmed. We’re moving out of this apartment in a few days, and we’re only taking with us what we can bring on the plane to Cambodia. Everything else will be sold or given away, except for the boxed books and memorabilia we’ll keep at Hitomi’s parents’ house.

Yesterday, I dropped off a toy stroller at a friend’s house. I hesitated to leave. I realized it was the pull of that stroller. One year we gave the twins a pair of toy strollers for the birthday, and they’ve never outgrown them. My kids have imaginations run wild. When they pretend, I can’t help but smile. Seeing the stroller go, I remembered the delighted smiles when my daughter first saw it.

Something significant is slipping away, but it’s not the stuff. Seeing these things reminds me that my kids will never be that young again. The lesson here is not to cling to what I can’t hold onto, but to open my eyes and see the blessings of today and live with nothing held back. Time is moving, and I’m moving with it. It’s only grace that gives me hope, because everything else is passing away.

November 8, 2004