Part 1: Setting Sail
Let me start by saying there is not a font big or bold enough in the whole wide world to express my excitement here: WE SOLD THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So many of you have followed our ups and downs with this process. Your encouragement and prayerful support have been life rafts in a sea of anxiety, and we are grateful to you.
These final, perfect buyers fell in love with the house instantly (the way it’s supposed to happen, thankyouverymuch). They were genuinely excited and exceptionally reasonable. Given our previous buyers’ dispositions, this was a long overdue and welcome relief!! They have two young children – a boy and a girl – and the realtor told me that The Mrs. loved the harlequin diamonds I had painted on Victoria’s bedroom wall. I was so overwhelmed with appreciation for these buyers that I could not wait for them to move in. Apparently, they couldn’t wait either, because we got a message that said they were ready to close…three weeks early. Wooo-hooo!!
The four of us dropped by the dear old house the night before closing to tidy up and make sure we hadn’t left any personal items behind. As soon as we walked in I burst into tears. Again. (Somebody check my hormone levels, would ya???) We said our goodbyes to each room, and then Dom gently urged me back toward the door. As we all stood together in the kitchen, we huddled up and Dom said a prayer, thanking God for the times we had in that house, good and bad, and for seeing us through it all. And then we walked out for the last time. Vic and I cried all the way down the driveway. We’re such girls.
Now, you know nothing I do happens without some degree of weirdness, so here it is. After we signed all the papers and were done with the house, I was equally happy for us and our buyers. But for the next three nights I had vivid dreams about needing to stop by the house for various reasons. I would wander into either the garage or the back yard or the kitchen and suddenly realize that I was trespassing. And then I would freeze, just about to be “caught,” and would suddenly wake up.
On the fourth night I had a crazy dream about the new house, in which someone had decorated my kitchen area with large, sprawling, bejeweled ceramic cats. When I told mom about the horrendous décor in my dream, she offered a bright side: “Hey, look…at least you finally left the old house!”
My friend Jill diagnosed me with Separation Anxiety. As odd as it sounds, I had to agree. I am going to miss that house.
Part 2: New Waters
Eight minutes away at our new address, all my cabinets are installed and stained, and the painters are putting the finishing touches on the trim and walls. It’s looking absolutely fabulous – beyond my wildest dreams. (No ceramic cats!) I started out saying that this was not going to be my dream home, but that it would be dreamy enough. As it turns out, it is my dream home after all. Every time something new is delivered and installed, I stare at it with my jaw open, just waiting for someone to pinch me. I told my builder the other day that this whole house is more grand than I ever expected, and that I am astounded by the detail and impressiveness of every single thing. He chuckled and said, “What did you expect?” Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think I even knew what to expect. What I do know is that I fall in love with my house even more every time I walk into it.
I recently spent about an hour and a half sitting in a lawn chair in my new kitchen, moving the emotional anchor from what is now our past to what will be our future. Dom thought I’d lost my marbles. I sat there in the calm, quiet emptiness of partially installed cabinetry and recalled where every bible verse is hidden behind sheetrock, just like I had said I wanted to do. I imagined the kids doing homework at the kitchen table and the dogs barking in the yard. I envisioned cool, quiet nights on the patio by a crackling fire and the home filled with family, friends and laughter. I prayed and thanked God for the joy and ease of building this house. I know what a blessing a home is, and though, essentially, it is but sticks and cement, it is filled with His word and blessed by His presence. And though my earthly anchor may set firmly in that structure, I recognize that this peace is possible only with my soul anchored in Him.