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“Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; You shall cry, and He will say, ‘Here I am.’” Isaiah 58:9

My icons have been stacked neatly on the countertop for 2 days now, laying there in the bubble wrap, waiting for the hammer and nails that hide somewhere in a box. I keep thinking the next box will hold the tools I need to get the altar hung and give the icons their home again. The last few days have been a blur of packing and hauling and cleaning followed by hauling and unpacking and cleaning. The first night in the house I could not find my pajamas. I slept in my clothes because I was so tired. It was all I could do to get sheets on the bed. That I actually got sheets on all the beds means a win in my book. I did find my pajamas on day 2 but the icons are still without their place. They sit in their green bubble shrouding and wait patiently.

The Lenten season is moving toward its end now and I find myself in need of reminder daily that this is where we’re at. I try to apprehend the joyful sorrow, the temperature of the time, the deep and sacred preparation for Pascha but I am constantly drawn back to the boxes on the floor, strange new kitchen layout, the long list of things to get or things to buy and the mounting pile of quotidian tasks that do not care that I am still unpacking. The laundry pile still grows. The dishes languish in the sink. The dust begins to form in the unused corners of the floor and windowsill.

The icons are waiting patiently.