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Ahh . . . the smell of fresh paint on a few remaining blank walls greet me as I walk into our new (to us) home, and instantly I can taste the crispy crunch of takeout fried chicken. The summer before second grade my family moved from my childhood home. My sister and I were NOT happy. She had just made cheerleader for the first time, and I did not want to leave my friends. In what I consider one of my first official written pieces, I penned (crayoned?) a multi-paragraph letter to my parents in blue crayon detailing why we should not move. Apparently, I had not yet perfected my persuasive skills because we ended up moving shortly after that time. Our first rent home in the new town was perfect. It was a two-story vintage beauty full of character and ready for new memories to join the many that I could only imagine were made in this special place. Unfortunately, after only a year in this home, the house was no longer on the market, and we were on the hunt for a new house. Unable to find one to buy, we settled on another rental. Looking back, I see that it had much less character and was not quite as appealing as our first house, but the main moment I recall was our magical first night. We had not unpacked any of our kitchen boxes, and we were famished. So, we picked up takeout fried chicken and mashed potatoes. We did not know where our plates or utensils had landed in the move, and we did not have a table or chairs yet. All four of us sat on the tile floor in the kitchen and laughed as we ate with all we could find, giant plastic serving utensils straight out of the small cartons. Fresh paint filled the air, and all of the walls were blank. My parents were so happy, and my mom teased us about how we would “name the corners” in our room with a boy’s name and whatever corner we saw when we woke up thenext morning would be the boy we would marry. This was something she did in her family for a first night in a new home, and she passed that fun idea to us. It was a mix of new possibilities and tradition. My parents probably have no idea that I remember that night with such fondness or that their positive and excited attitude towards change has truly impacted how I handle shifting situations. That one meal on the kitchen floor not only conditioned me to react to fresh paint with a desire for fried chicken, but it also shaped my heart to respond to movement and change with excitement and anticipation instead of focusing on loss and worry. I have small moments every day with my kids and COUNTLESS meals and snacks that may or may not come with a life-shaping lesson. I pray that God opens my eyes to the opportunities I have each day to guide and teach my little girls, and I pray that they look back with fondness on moments I may not even remember and stand amazed at how God used those times to mold them into the women He would have them to be.