Friday, November 18, 2016

on how it was all pieced together

Zeke and I were sitting at the kitchen counter at my mom's empty house waiting on the contractor to show up, passing the time with a puzzle.  There was that one piece that just wouldn't fit.  I kept trying to turn it this way and that way and but it just didn't look right anywhere. Rand, our contractor boss man (a friend who had known my dad and told me about it- so kind), shows up and walks around and then has some questions for my mom. As she's talking on speaker phone, Rand picks up that stubborn puzzle piece and puts it right where it needs to go, looks up, and voila.  House plans are final and everything suddenly comes together.  It's a go. 

Eleven years earlier, the road home to Shreveport opened up.  Jack and I had moved back home from Kentucky with our toddling, singing, dancing little girl and we found a cute little white house on a hill that would do just fine for the three of us.  It was just a mile or so from my mom's new-to-her house- the house that surrounded her with all its light in her dark time just after dad died.  We lived in that little house in a big way, stuffing her with our dinners and parties and laughter and prayers and memories.  But we also outgrew her over time, especially as the two baby boys we later welcomed into the world grew. With every year, the walls seemed to get a little closer together.  So we decided to move on and we put our little white house on the market and we showed our little white house over and over and over again.  And over.  And over.  Over 100 times.  Months of red lights turned into years.  It was a stubborn, very stubborn puzzle piece.

In the meantime, there was a family with a big blue house nearby and they needed to sell.  It was THE house for us- or so we thought, the house we would have bought had we gotten an offer on ours.  A mutual friend later told me that the owner of that house walked by our house for weeks praying for our house and for us and wouldn't you know it, just a little while later she sold that blue house?  To another girl named Candace!?  Her puzzle piece fell right into place but mine was still frustrating me just a little bit.

After a while, we threw up our hands and gave up.  Clearly, this wasn't working.  Until one day, I went over to my mom's empty house (she had moved to Texas after she remarried and had been trying to sell her house too to no avail) and I walked around and thought.  What if THIS was our house?  This beautiful old house with the big backyard and screened in porch? 

Well we all thought about it and then Rand shows up and puts his plan together and after we shifted some things around and added just a little bit, our house-home puzzle piece fit just right.  We remodeled this summer and moved in in July, officially closing on the house with our friend Ben Bethard as our title attorney. God's beautiful wink to us was not having to even put our house on the market again.  Some friends bought it for a rental property and we were able to just walk away from it, thankful for the memories but so crazy relieved to say goodbye.  When that piece fell into place, it was the easiest thing in the world- God's time. 

We'll pack this house full of memories, too.  We already have in fact.  We are settled and grateful, adoring our light-filled octagenarian house on Unadilla Street that fits us like a glove.

Thank you God and for your very best timing.  

1 comment:

lifeinthevillage said...

Amen and amen. I can't even believe that I haven't seen it yet, but I will someday. Love, love.