Painting over Paintings

The Man is at the house hanging out with the packers as they box everything up, and I'm at temporary lodging listen to the kids play a very loud game of pretend that involves a set of rolling ottomans and probably imminent death. This is moving. Moving is also going back to the "old house" at least twelve different times for all the things I've forgotten (Tim's Atlanta Braves cap, the dog lead, the french press), frozen waffles (that the kids inform me are better than the ones I make homemade), squeezing in last minute stuff (like a half marathon, a women's retreat, and more time with friends), and trying to keep suitcases from exploding all over lodging (a near impossible feat).

This time, though, the biggest symbol of our move was painting over the "mural" in our living room. 2.5 years ago when we moved here, we discovered that half the walls were concrete and utterly immune to my attempts to hang pictures. I got a concrete drill bit and that worked in some places, but the living room wall refused to comply. Finally, I talked the Man into making a date night out of splashing some water based paint on the wall. I then spent the next few days taping off what I wanted, scrubbing off the rest, and adding a border to make it look like there was actual planning involved. It became a conversation piece every time we had guests over and really defined our living room. It became a happy memory for me of painting with the Man. It also helped me work through some of the sorrow I felt about my miscarriage and our latest move. And if you don't understand how splashing paint on a wall can help you process grief, I can't help you.

When I painted over it, all those memories came rushing back, and not just the memories but how they made me feel. I remembered both the laughter and the grief...and felt a little overwhelmed by how much there was of both of those even as we prepare to head to our 5th home in ten years. It took three coats of paint to cover up, and I left behind a plain white wall that the next tenants can break a drill bit on in their fervor for hanging paintings.

I may have cried a little bit, but as the Man said: there will be other walls to paint. There will be other memories to make. Other ways to remember. Other fun date nights. Other griefs that remind us of God's goodness. And we may paint over our favorite murals, but it doesn't actually get rid of them. It just puts them under a couple layers of paint, saving them for an archaeologist to find some day or--and this is more likely--preserving them (and the pen scribbles one of your artistic children added when you weren't looking) in your mind--and on your wall--forever. Even if you're the only one who remembers that they're there.