The end...
It's down to the last minute for our house selling in B'ham. We're supposed close on it tomorrow at 11:00. I keep fearing some last minute malfunction is going to happen, since I've already headed off a few things from going wrong... I talked to the buyers last night, and they're scrambling, too, to make sure they've got everything they need.
But, as I approach the end of this, I can't help but think how the sale of that house will mark the end of an era in me and Stacey's lives... After all, it was our first house. We bought it 6 months after we married. Homewood became our hometown. For the next 4 years, I would wrestle with my employment (ups and downs) at Mountaintop. Stacey and I would would learn the growing pains of marriage. It was...home...
- It was a place for small group meetings, and some great times spent with friends happened there. Those friendships were awesome, which is why community is so important to me now.
- It was the house where I sat for 2 hours with an alcoholic friend one night trying to counsel him through a major relapse in his drinking.
- It was the place we brought our daughter home from the hospital to. It was HER home, too.
- It was the place where I freaked out after a big storm when I realized that 3 100-foot tall pine trees had just fallen down in my backyard, amazingly not damaging my house or any of my neighbors, whose homes were less than 100 feet away.
- It was a the place for things like 'first Christmas dinners' with parents and 'in-laws' (shudder). In other words, our OWN memories...
- It was a place of solitude when I wrestled with depression several years ago. It was quiet...something I needed to get through it...
- All kinds of memories: Pets, Playstation 2 games projected onto a sheet hanging from the ceiling, prayer times, busting the mower blade on protruding root, trying to rig the fence so my dog couldn't get out, pressure washing the deck, working on the Mustang, playing in the snow on the street (face it, you're never too old), arguments, reconciliations, painting room after room after room, flushing money into maintenance and repairs, beating Half Life on the PC, etc., etc., etc.
Basically, it was just a place - but an important place in our lives. Like I said, it WAS home. Even when we moved out, we rented it out to friends who made it their home, too. But as long as we have owned it, it has been a...memento...of times gone by. A part of ourselves still grounded in our past.
And now, though I'm ecstatic about getting rid of the financial burden it has been on us to maintain and lease since we've moved up here, in my mind this sale marks the END of those times gone by. Sure, those times are already gone. Decatur has been my home almost 2 (!!) years now. I have new friends, new memories, and...basically, a new life.
So, why am I a bit melancholy? Maybe it's looking back at all the hopes and dreams that were never realized on Drexel Drive in Homewood...the job that didn't work out, the renovations that didn't happen (after all, we'd planned on living there a long time), the life that 'could have been.'
Maybe it's also a longing for my old life to be a part of my new life. If only my old 'community' could be a part of my new one. Wow, that would be freakin' awesome...
Don't get me wrong, here. I wouldn't trade where I am now for anything. I guess it's kind of like memories of a first girlfriend. Though I'm much happier now, you never forget the first.
So, if all goes well tomorrow, I'll finally have some lasting 'closure' to that era of my life...as if now Decatur will COMPLETELY be my new home. (Then again, if something gets screwed up in the closing, I'll have to put that off...d'oh. So pray that doesn't happen).
Truly, I can look at that home and my new home, and see how God's just led me from one place to another, and every place I have lived (will live) has been just another mile on the road we travel... And knowing that God's always been there - no matter where I've lived - is enough to make all the recent (and necessary) changes in my life things I can not only live with, but now embrace.
But, as I approach the end of this, I can't help but think how the sale of that house will mark the end of an era in me and Stacey's lives... After all, it was our first house. We bought it 6 months after we married. Homewood became our hometown. For the next 4 years, I would wrestle with my employment (ups and downs) at Mountaintop. Stacey and I would would learn the growing pains of marriage. It was...home...
- It was a place for small group meetings, and some great times spent with friends happened there. Those friendships were awesome, which is why community is so important to me now.
- It was the house where I sat for 2 hours with an alcoholic friend one night trying to counsel him through a major relapse in his drinking.
- It was the place we brought our daughter home from the hospital to. It was HER home, too.
- It was the place where I freaked out after a big storm when I realized that 3 100-foot tall pine trees had just fallen down in my backyard, amazingly not damaging my house or any of my neighbors, whose homes were less than 100 feet away.
- It was a the place for things like 'first Christmas dinners' with parents and 'in-laws' (shudder). In other words, our OWN memories...
- It was a place of solitude when I wrestled with depression several years ago. It was quiet...something I needed to get through it...
- All kinds of memories: Pets, Playstation 2 games projected onto a sheet hanging from the ceiling, prayer times, busting the mower blade on protruding root, trying to rig the fence so my dog couldn't get out, pressure washing the deck, working on the Mustang, playing in the snow on the street (face it, you're never too old), arguments, reconciliations, painting room after room after room, flushing money into maintenance and repairs, beating Half Life on the PC, etc., etc., etc.
Basically, it was just a place - but an important place in our lives. Like I said, it WAS home. Even when we moved out, we rented it out to friends who made it their home, too. But as long as we have owned it, it has been a...memento...of times gone by. A part of ourselves still grounded in our past.
And now, though I'm ecstatic about getting rid of the financial burden it has been on us to maintain and lease since we've moved up here, in my mind this sale marks the END of those times gone by. Sure, those times are already gone. Decatur has been my home almost 2 (!!) years now. I have new friends, new memories, and...basically, a new life.
So, why am I a bit melancholy? Maybe it's looking back at all the hopes and dreams that were never realized on Drexel Drive in Homewood...the job that didn't work out, the renovations that didn't happen (after all, we'd planned on living there a long time), the life that 'could have been.'
Maybe it's also a longing for my old life to be a part of my new life. If only my old 'community' could be a part of my new one. Wow, that would be freakin' awesome...
Don't get me wrong, here. I wouldn't trade where I am now for anything. I guess it's kind of like memories of a first girlfriend. Though I'm much happier now, you never forget the first.
So, if all goes well tomorrow, I'll finally have some lasting 'closure' to that era of my life...as if now Decatur will COMPLETELY be my new home. (Then again, if something gets screwed up in the closing, I'll have to put that off...d'oh. So pray that doesn't happen).
Truly, I can look at that home and my new home, and see how God's just led me from one place to another, and every place I have lived (will live) has been just another mile on the road we travel... And knowing that God's always been there - no matter where I've lived - is enough to make all the recent (and necessary) changes in my life things I can not only live with, but now embrace.
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