The view from here. Mom and john made a huge dent in packing yesterday. Boxes=progress. #helloadventure

The real truth is that it’s been a little rough around here. I have a tendency to totally under estimate the force of transition, change, and new starts. And I suppose that is what is happening here. Straight up change and transition. My heart and my soul is longing for a big expansive exhale. And I definitely didn’t anticipate how hard it would be to leave our little bungalow. We have poured so much of ourselves into this house in just four years, but I always knew it would likely not be our home forever. As sweet and lovely as it is, we were out growing the space, craving a bit more room to breathe, to work, to grow into.

And so.

We found a beautiful new home. And we bought it.

And then the packing. And the tenderly and consciously preparing True for the move. And then the excitement, the dreaming, the anticipation.

Last nite we had a little candlelit picnic in our new house. It was entirely empty except for us, a few candles, a #joy rock, take out dinner, a bottle of wine. We took it all in, talked about what we wanted to invite into this new space, what kinds of me
The evening before moving day, John and I had a little picnic at the new house. It was empty, with just the two of us, a few candles, the Joy rock, and a bottle of wine. We talked about all the things we wanted to invite into the new space, all the memories we wanted to make. This is a house we can grow old in, a house that True can always return home to.
Really gonna miss this house;)
(it was a great house)Moving day. Way more emotional today than I expected. The good news? She is technically still ours. We are now officially soon to be landlords of a most adorable bungalow.

The next day, the movers arrived at the bungalow. And it hit me. Major tears. We. Are. Moving.I’ve moved a ton of times (a lot as a child and as an adult), but I suppose never from a house where so much growth occurred. As we rebuilt the walls of this house, we were rebuilding our lives. Becoming parents, navigating the ups and downs of those first couple of years of new motherhood/fatherhood, growing a business, and stepping into some pivotal years that became the grounds for seasoning our souls. Big stuff. And this house held us beautifully.

I just didn’t realize, nor was I prepared for the flood of emotion. Working really hard at creating the space around the release, and some gentle self care.

To top things off, or perhaps stop us in our tracks (hello, surrender), John got super sick the day of moving and I injured my neck. Neither of us have been able to do much unpacking at all, which means that our new home is still in the awkward phase of feeling utterly unfamiliar and strange. Panic begins to set in, and I’m mustering up all my mantras around courage, transition, self compassion.

It’s been a rough week.

#notetoself #gentlereminder #nurtureyourheart I'm about to launch into an epic week. Excited to fly.

My word this year is Trust. I keep reminding myself of it. Trusting that True’s transition will be just fine. That ours will be too. That this house will become a home that we’ll adore. That our old home was a beautiful foundation for launching. That it served its purpose. That this house has one too. That transition is transition. And that is okay. That we can take our time. That everything has divinity, including time, change, and struggle.

I was chatting with Dani about all of this and she sent over the following:

There’s an old native American prayer about collecting your soul parts…for some reason, it popped into my awareness as I was thinking about your move.  You guys had such a strong family energy (soul) in the old house.  Maybe it would be good to invite it to come be with you now.  It may still be in the old house or a least a piece of it. All you have to say is “Spirit of my family, I need you here.  I need you in this house!  I want you to join us fully right here right now.”  Say it until it feels like there has been a shift.

I said it over and over, and around the 10th time, my whole body got chills, which happens to me when Spirit is near.

And so.

I’m gonna keep trusting, keeping my heart open. So grateful for the full journey and breath of life. All of it. Even the hard bits.

Hi, I'm Kelly Rae Roberts!

Before I picked up my first paintbrush at the age of 30, I was a medical social worker. I followed my whispers and started playing with paint and everything changed.

Now I’m a full-time artist, author and Possibilitarian, who helps women explore and nourish their creative souls.

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