Settlng, Part II

I love my new house. Isn't it charming? As odd as this may sound, I think the previous owner wanted us to have this house. 

Just to clarify things - this house is the third house I made an offer on. The second, which I wrote about here I lost to another buyer. I looked at this house prior to making the second offer, and really liked it, but just wasn't sure about it, partly because it needed a good bit of updating. I came back to it a second time when both of my girls were able to join me on a house hunting venture. I forget how many houses we looked at that day... probably about 12... but when we walked into this house both of their countenances changed. They grew excited. They said it felt like home. That was the first time I had gotten that response, and it caused me to really look at the house. The second house the girls liked, but Lizzie said it felt like it belonged to someone else. 

This house was part of an estate sale. It has had one owner prior to me, and she passed away last fall. She was a single mom, and bought this house in the mid 70s. Both of her children were nearing adulthood at that time, if not already there. At the closing, it dawned on me that her children's names are "Carol" and "Lee," both of which are my names, although I dropped Carol legally years ago. In talking with others, I've learned that the owner was a character, well loved, a former real estate agent, loved her yard [I have so much to learn], fed the wildlife... I like everything I know about her. Her energy is still very much present here.

So as I started the process of moving in, I started talking to her. Told her how much I loved her house, and to forgive me, but there were some things I needed to change. I hope she liked what I planned to do.

Right after we closed on the house, the work started. And then her daughter wanted to come by. My heart caught in my chest, because this was in the driveway:

This was a stone facade in the house just the day prior. I warned her, which is a good thing, and when she came over I told her what I planned to do. Her response was what I needed to hear [I also got the response from the original owner's best friend, who came by a little later]: "Mom would want you to do this - there were so many things she wanted to do to the house but just couldn't. I'm so glad to see you making the house yours."

A month later, I can say that the work has all been worth it. I'm not quite ready for before/after pictures, because we're definitely still unpacking, but with each day I grow happier with my space.

It has so many things about it which I have craved:

LOOK at that beautiful back yard! We've sat outside a number of nights, eating dinner... or I've had a friend over and we were able to have a glass of wine... It's amazing!

Wait, there's more:

The trees! Three huge oak trees that provide shade to the entire lot! The back yard is always shady - which is why I CAN sit outside at night as the day comes to a close and just enjoy.

I love where I live, and the convenience to so many things. I love that my children can see and articulate the difference between what school was like for them and what it's like now. I love that their father came to a school Open House, and that he has been to a football game. I really love that he can pick up the kids at my house when he gets off work on Fridays, because it is not really out of the way - unlike our two hour commute of the past six years. And I love the feeling I get when I come around the curve leading up to the house and see my house sitting on the hill, just waiting for us. And how welcome I feel when I walk into my kitchen from the garage.

I definitely think the previous owner is happy. The new owner is happy, too. 

Settling can have such negative connotations - "Don't settle," I've been told. In this case, though. I think settling is exactly right. I have been unsettled all summer, living out of my trunk the last part of it. I embraced the feeling, because I knew it was temporary. It was where I was, and where I needed to be.

But now... It's good to be home. 

Now, back to unpacking some more boxes. I'm ready to be settled.

Settling, Part I

The past seven weeks have been a blur. I went from massive limbo to overdrive as things started to happen. The quick and dirty:

• Bought a house
• Sold my other house three days later
• Began a home renovation project which took 3x longer than I anticipated. 
• Shuttled a child to band camp - even though we weren't in the house yet.
• Started a new job - even though we weren't in the house yet.
• Kids started school - even though we weren't in the house yet.
• House got "done enough" to move in.
• PODS arrived 12 weeks and 2 days after I shipped them off
• PODS were unloaded into the house
• Birthday party for my oldest back where we used to live.
• Boxes remain everywhere... but my kitchen is finally unpacked, and I cooked for the first time since May yesterday.

I could go on. Point is, there has been no time to think very hard about what is going on, nor really much time to unpack and get settled into the house because life started happening anyway. 

Yet through this crazy time, I have had such peace. No, things did not go the way I wanted them to. Yes, it has been manic trying to juggle all of these things. Yes, lots of decisions, like where to sleep each night, had to be made in order to facilitate the process, but none of them marked the end of the world... they were just inconveniences. And I've learned a few things, too:

• I have the patience of Job. I have often said it is folly to pray for patience, because it will surely get tested. I learned that I don't have to pray for it - I already have it.
• Control is overrated. We really don't have it anyway, so letting go of the process and letting it happen organically is a beautiful thing. So what that I had to reschedule PODS five times... it didn't matter. Things worked out because I was flexible in my thinking and attitude. Great life lesson, there.

I can honestly look at this entire process and see God's hand in each part. 

I am where I am supposed to be. 

I feel my heart settling. The vagabond in me is at peace, and my heart is home.

Letting Go

I have had such peace. Things have not happened in my time - definitely God's time... but I will say - now that I'm "this close" to closing on my house and things aren't moving quite the way I want them to, it's very hard to maintain my "Let Go and Let God" stance that I know is a lot of what I've needed to learn through this process.

Closing is supposed to be Wednesday. The file is still not approved. Just got off the phone with the mortgage officer.

We'll see. Letting go again.

Living in Limbo

source

I left camp a week ago. I can't say I went home, because I haven't done that. Don't exactly have a home right now.

Yay for parents who are happy to have us with them. Yay for my empty house that is under contract. Yay for a house to move into as soon as we can get a few things done. But in the meantime... limbo.

I'm ready to be in my own space again. Working to accept this unsettled feeling as where I need to be right now.

A Sense of Place

Back when camp started, I wrote here about finding my place at camp.

Over the past week, I've realized that I've done that. It took my leaving for four days for my sorority leadership conference [where I've definitely found my place, but that's another blog post] and coming back, plus the events of the past week, for me to truly recognize that.

One way manifested itself as soon as I was back. A number of people told me they missed me, including the junior staff who work with me at Arts & Crafts. One of them even told me, "Lee, I'm not gonna lie. When camp first started I was worried about working with you, but I've really enjoyed it. It just didn't feel right when you weren't here."

Several senior staff members have come up to me and said something like, "We're glad you're back. Can't believe you're leaving at the end of this term. We don't want you to go." One of them in particular, who I knew from the get go would be somewhat hard to crack, went further and said, "You've won us over - that's pretty impressive, coming from a group of 20 year olds."

The night before Lazy Day, I ended up helping in the canteen during the big "89 Party," even though I technically wasn't on duty, and was thanked profusely by the Senior Staff on duty - "we couldn't have done this smoothly if you had not helped."

So that's good. One of my concerns when camp started has been put to rest. But more than that, a shift happened in my relationship with the directors this week:

Several years ago, what everyone labels as "the plague" hit camp. It took out over 80% of the campers and staff. The memory of that has haunted directors since, and they are ever vigilant not to allow that to occur again. So this week, when a stomach virus seemed to be taking hold of some campers, the directors went into crisis mode. Ironically, this happened on Lazy Day, right after my rather idyllic morning.

Thursday afternoon they asked all of us to help make sure things were clean, and I worked to disinfect the canteen to the best of my ability. I got the canteen open, and within about 10 minutes of my being there, one of the directors came in and told me they were going to pull me from my afternoon duties to run a hospital ward of sorts in the Boys' Directors Cabin. They didn't want it to be fun for the campers, but they did want it to be a place for people to rest and for us to be able to evaluate how they are feeling prior to sending them back into activities with the rest of the campers. If they were truly sick, they'd go to the infirmary, where we had kids dealing with the stomach virus. If they weren't, we'd send them back to activities after watching them for 4-6 hours.

I ended up doing this from 2:30-8:30, with a short break for dinner. They said they would find someone to relieve me, but my response was that if there really was an issue, it made more sense for only one person to be affected rather than risk more of the staff getting sick. No one really argued with me. I quickly had the place running the way I felt it should be - quiet, no talking inside where people were laying down. One of the directors overheard my conversation with one of the campers [who many of us had determined was faking it as a way to get attention] that was firm, but not mean, and got on the radio and said, "We chose well - Lee is perfect for this." [For the record, everyone seems to be feeling much better. If there was a crisis, we averted it. If there wasn't, then campers who needed a place to rest got it.]

Since then, I have led vespers and given the vespers talk, and a number of people came up to me and said, "That was the best one so far this summer." I was asked to help with the flag raising today and tomorrow. I was thanked by another director for my work on Thursday, and relieved from duty last night, but I chose to stay involved - I had to be at the event anyway, and it turns out that I was able to problem solve a few situations that ended up causing him not to worry as much.

My point, and I'll mix some metaphors here, but they all work: I've become a part of the fabric of camp, a part of the rhythm. A lot of what I've done is behind the scenes, but that's what makes things work well. But more importantly, I've developed a reputation - and that is one of cheerfully helping out wherever I'm needed. My goal for the summer was to do just that, and to help make those precious camp memories for the campers happen.

I'm already feeling a sense of melancholy, which I'm working to suppress - I really don't want to leave next weekend. In the meantime, I'm here now. And I'm enjoying every single minute of it.

Finding Joy

This morning I sat at breakfast for a bit longer than normal because I got engrossed watching a conversation unfold between the camp director, Bob Gene (who is in his 80s), Allen (his son, and friend I've mentioned previously), and two other staff members. The conversation was about the fireworks that camp is shooting tomorrow night over Lower Lake for the 4th of July.

These fireworks are a big deal. For one, lots of special permits to make this happen. We've been told at some point how much money is spent on fireworks, and it's substantial. The volunteer fire department is present for the show. Camp gets to stay up late to see them. People have been calling to ask if we're doing them again this year, and what time they'll start [Dark, people - dark...]. Allen always thanks the "dam people" for coming out to watch [they get chairs and sit on the dam which separates Upper and Lower Lakes]. Corny joke, but it works. It's certainly etched into the minds of my brothers and me.

Anyway, at breakfast, Bob Gene had a fuse [or something else electrical related to the fireworks] in his hands and was talking through what he wanted to happen today, and lamenting the change in the supply at Radio Shack, as well as commenting on the fact that the game room repair area at camp is better stocked than Radio Shack, etc.

While I had no clue what they were talking about, of how it all worked, I sat there enraptured. What delighted me about the conversation was recognizing how excited Bob Gene is about the fireworks, and watching the men around him talk through what he wanted to do, and knowing that everything that was going into the fireworks brings Bob Gene [and so many others] tremendous joy. The animation he expressed reminded me of a young child near Christmas.

I truly just wanted to sit there and absorb the energy. Whether they know it or not, they are all a part of Joy embodied.

When's the Last Time...

• You sat outside in the early morning with a book?
• You could hear cars coming well before they appear in your line of vision because the sound of them is rare?
• A bee landed on you, and you sat still enough for it to determine you aren't a flower, and it moved on?
• The sound of a pine cone dropping startled you?
• You felt the cool morning air start to give way towards the heat of summer?
• You watched people fishing from a boat?
• You waved at everyone who drove past, and spoke to everyone who walked by?

I experienced all of this this morning, as I had road duty for Lazy Day. I wouldn't trade a minute. My life is usually so harried, full, and scheduled, but today... today... I didn't have a worry in the world, and the sights and sounds around me just filled my soul.