Our house is full of cardboard. Boxes everywhere. Empty and full, labelled and unlabelled. I estimate we’ve used a kilometre of brown tape in the last month. We are moving house in 10 days, and packing is always hard work.
It doesn’t seem like just four years since we were last at this point. Back in 2012, we moved to Boston. Since then, we’ve had a daughter, become part of a thriving church, lived in Africa for 9 months, lost a bit of weight, and I’ve even bought a snood…
We love Boston. We love our amazing house. We love our friends here, the brilliantly diverse community of surrogate family we’ve lived life with for 4 years.
Our desire has been to have an open home – often literally when we forget to lock the front door overnight – and our memories of this place involve time spent with people. If you’ve laughed or cried with us whilst we’ve been here, then thank you.
If you’ve been shot in a delicate area during paintball; arrived at the front door playing a flute; drunk 3 pints of milk after underestimating chilli sauce potency; argued about being “ECONOMICAL” around a game of Risk until the early hours; or surprised Katherine with a birthday party and lots of giggles; thank you too.
When we left South Africa, I felt deeply sad. I was ready to leave, and ready to go back to the UK, but emotionally it very firmly felt like “the end” of something. I’m not having the same emotions about our move to Warrington. I think its because of “Temeraire thinking“, which I just made up… Let me explain:
JW Turner painted a very famous painting called the Fighting Temeraire. It was voted the nation’s favourite painting in 2005.
During the battle of Trafalgar, the HMS Temeraire played a key role, a flagship, pride of the country. However, after limping home to London, it was eventually broken up in 1838, and is shown being towed by a steam tug on the last leg. In the background is an amazing sunset.
The piece is full of symbolic sadness, the battered old ship, the stalwart of the fleet painfully rendered obselete by new technology. However, I have a theory…
What if the smouldering red sky isn’t a sunset? What if its a dawn? A new era for the world, the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, to a bright future?
As we leave Boston, I want to share a photo we took of the Maud Foster Mill, here in town. The sky is on fire, but I’m pretty sure its because God has a whole host of new opportunities opening up for our family; as the sun sets for us here, its dawn in Warrington…