Jake had very long work days/evenings this week and all of us are pretty tired, so progress on getting the house signed off has stalled a little. The last item before occupancy sign off is the driveway, which takes at least three people and an entire day to complete. So we shifted our focus towards the kitchen and finished what we could in the short bursts of time and energy we had.

Dad and Jake worked wonders installing the butcher block countertops and fitting our new sink. Our faucet is arriving in a few days, and I have to apply a few more coats of finishing oil to the countertops, but otherwise it’s fully functional. It’s been incredible to watch this kitchen I’ve had in my dreams for over a year become a reality.

I think I’m more excited about the sink than anything else in the kitchen. Whenever I envisioned my ideal kitchen, it had a huge farmhouse sink for washing dishes and preparing meals. Washing dishes is my favorite chore — I find it satisfying and meditative — and I love having a beautiful space in which to do it.

It’s hard to move boxes or furniture when you have a baby clinging to you 24/7, but I’ve also been able to move a few odds and ends from our current studio into the house. We also got the living room cleaned up, and our rug and chairs moved into their spots. Jake and I lovingly call these our “Up” chairs — inspired by the two chairs Carl and Ellie have in the Pixar movie Up.

We’re hopeful we can move in the first week in October. Slowly but surely, it’s coming together and we’re excited (although Michael wasn’t so certain when I took the above photo). He is sprouting his fifth tooth and loves to climb and explore as long as he’s not too far away from me. His favorite toy is my parents’ screen door (and the awesome sound it makes when he bangs on it). He’s still an abysmal sleeper, but at least he’s adorable.

Grief still sticks us with its thorns here and there. My grandparents found an old photo my uncle had in his place: it’s of him and me when I was six months old. They gave it to me to keep, and I cherish it as a reminder of how much he cared for me.

Knitting continues to keep me grounded. I’m working on a few different projects, and recently had to frog a portion of a sweater. (For those of you who don’t know knitting lingo, frogging is when you tear out stitches/ unravel your work). I wound the yarn back into a ball and began anew, and the sweater still grows on my needles (though I still feel frustrated when I think of the time spent on torn out stitches). Unraveling is painful, but in the end, the finished product is so much better for it.

As I sat with a pile of bedraggled yarn at my feet it felt like an apt metaphor for this entire summer: unforeseen events causing our plans and our timelines to shift, and grief leaving us feeling like a heap of tangled yarn. But we can’t deny there has been growth in the midst of the difficulty. We are all very different people than we were fourteen months ago when it all began. We’re stronger, and sadder, and wiser. I pray that we are holier, too.

Perhaps sanctification is a bit like this: unraveling things we’ve proudly and imperfectly made in ourselves in order for them to be made again, and made better. Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it in the current moment — I’m definitely not holy enough to delight in the frogging of a sweater or the refining fire of life’s circumstances. Maybe someday I will be. But for now, I pray that our tangled mess will, in the end and by God’s grace, become something beautiful and glorifying to Him.