This is our story

Well folks, this might be my last post before I fall off the grid, so to speak, and blogging might start to get spotty. My little house in the projects is echoing bare and empty. I have enough eggs and milk in my fridge here for the morning and have started stocking up my little trailer fridge. (it didn’t take long to fill that thing up, let me tell you) I did a deep cleaning of my big house today in preparation for the fact that my baby will soon be crawling all over the floors. Well, at least as deep as I can clean with windows that are open to the elements and never ending piles of rubble in the corners that seem to produce never ending heaps of dust. And I’ve sorted the last box of stuff for long term storage.

These past few weeks have been exhausting both mentally and physically. There have been a few moments of sheer panic where I have felt like we are making the biggest mistake of our lives. And there have been moments of joy and excitement as we begin to dig in and get our hands dirty, all the while imagining what it might be like to finally be done with this project. But whether we succeed or fail in the attempt, I hope to be able to acknowledge (with a cheerful heart) that this too is part of the story of our lives that God is writing.

This story- this tale that God has made me a part of, is so drastically different from anything I ever could have imagined in those days when I used to plan out my future. My plans were modest, unambitious and mostly centered around my home town, marrying a boy from my home church, having my own children so that I could add to the number of extended family already surrounding me. On days where I was feeling particularly ambitious, I dreamed of doing something as crazy as opening my own bakery. But on most days, even that seemed like reaching too far.

My story has, of course, looked nothing like that. Within five years of high school graduation I had somehow or other spent a year abroad and consequently married a man who was definitely not from my home town. I had ended up in college three thousand miles from my family and earned a degree in vocal performance, which last I checked, had nothing to do with baking cookies. And then down the years- moving and moving and moving again- having babies and losing babies- having jobs and losing jobs- making what we thought were good decisions only to find out later they were the worst decisions we could have made- but also finding amazing grace emerge from the seemingly darkest times.

Throughout these many years, I have often felt as if I had not control whatsoever over our story- like a pawn in the hand of an Almighty (and sometimes careless) God. I remember when we were living in Memphis several years ago- in an apartment complex in a bad part of town- the only white family for miles, or so it seemed. It was a difficult time for me- adjusting, trying to sort out what it felt like to be a minority, trying to be friendly to strangers in a strange world but really wishing I could just hide until this part of my life were past. During that time, we had some friends from our new church over for dinner. I was embarrassed to have them, since our living conditions were less than ideal, and it was clear from the moment they walked in our door that they had never been to this part of town in their lives. After their initial exclamations of surprise were past, they began trying to figure out how we came to be there.

Were we missionaries? Did we have a ministry to these people? Was there an organization we were part of? Surely there was some greater overarching purpose to explain why we lived where we did. But no- the simple answer was tough circumstances- Steve’s job and the fact that we had been apart for six months had finally forced us to be where we were. We hadn’t planned it- it wasn’t in the script. We seemed to have had no other choice.

Now of course that isn’t exactly true. Steve could have quit his job- I could have continued to live with my parents, any number of smaller decisions on our part might have changed the outcome of that time. I know, for better or worse, that we are responsible for our actions and that we are not helpless puppets pulled about on strings whichever way God directs. But I gave up a long time ago trying to sort out where human accountability and God’s sovereignty meet. Even so, I still feel helpless a lot of the time- that no matter how hard I try, the outcome of whatever we are dealing with is probably not going to be what I imagine or plan. It might be worse- it might be a good deal better- but in the end, it will be His plan, not mine.

Keeping all that in mind however- God might the author, but he has given me the role of main character. As such, he has made me capable of responding in a way that pleases or displeases him. He is letting me contribute to the outcome of my own story by how I act as each new circumstance rolls towards us. And as little as I might know about the final ending, I do know what kind of a character I want to be in the current chapter. I don’t want to be the timid and fearful woman that I so often see in myself, wanting to give up even before the next challenge begins. I don’t want to be the woman who lays on her bed and cries in self pity because her life doesn’t look like that of her friends. I don’t want to be the woman who is ashamed of the place that God has placed her, hiding herself from the world and those who might reach out to help.

That is who I don’t want to be. But who do I want to be? I’m not always sure what kind of character I am- my varying traits seem to change from day to day. But it is always safe to look to Jesus. Jesus who was poor and did not have a home to lay his head (we’re in good company!) But even more- Jesus, who lived his life in constant communion with the Father, asking for daily bread and not worrying about tomorrow. Jesus, who gave freely of everything he had, although he had so little. And Jesus, who died for us that we might learn to die to ourselves and live for him, no matter what the next chapter might bring.

Be it ever so humble…

Well folks, I have a funny little story to share with you this evening.

A few years ago, the hubby and I, in keeping with long-standing tradition, were trying to decide what to do for our anniversary at the very last second. I had been hinting for a long time that I would like to go somewhere overnight- somewhere quiet and lovely where we could enjoy some natural beauty, but we were broke and had four kids and getting away was tough. Well we managed it in the end by asking some friends if we could stay at their riverfront property where they kept a trailer and a screened in porch for shelter. They graciously said we could and we had a lovely time and I blogged about it here.

I blogged about how we stayed in the cozy screened in porch, but what I did not blog about at the time was that we had planned to sleep in the trailer.  However, due to unforeseen circumstances, the porch ended up being a better option.

Now I don’t write this story to embarrass our good friends.  They had an unbelievable amount of crazy going on in their lives at that time.  Being in the hospital for months with premature twins who were hanging on to life by a thread was just one thing they were dealing with. But apparently, what with all the hubbub of their lives, they were unaware when they gave us a key to the trailer, that the electricity had been unplugged.  This wouldn’t have been a big deal at all, except for one minor issue- the fridge and freezer had been left full of food.  And folks- when you leave a fridge full of food unplugged in the shimmering heat of a Tennessee July, you have a problem.

I probably don’t need to ask you to imagine the smell that reached our noses when we first entered that trailer, nor describe in any detail the cloud of insects that suddenly made a desperate bid for freedom through the open door where we were standing.  We stood there for a moment, retching slightly, closed the door, and made other plans.

But all through that lovely evening, as we kayaked in the river, cooked steaks and corn on the cob on the grill, watched the sunset and finally dozed off to sleep to a chorus of singing frogs, we couldn’t stop thinking about the trailer and the unpleasant surprise that would greet our kind friends, when and if they ever got out of the hospital and out to their property again.

So the following morning, we made ourselves a lovely breakfast, took a few deep breaths of sweet, dewy morning air and headed back to the trailer.  Thankfully, they had everything we needed- lots of paper towels, scrubby brushes, rubber gloves and plenty of Lysol.  Gas masks would have been nice, but we made do, holding our breath and scrubbing as fast as we could until we had to run out again, gasping.  The hubby even had some heavy duty garbage bags in the back of his car for us to haul out the rotten food.  It didn’t need much help mind you.  That food was nearly walking out the door on its own.

As we drove away later that day, our trunk full of smelly food, we felt happy.  Happy that, even though we had spent a good part of our romantic getaway in less than romantic circumstances, we had been able to repay our generous friends a bit and perhaps make their lives a little easier down the road.

Fast forward a few years, and you find me sitting on the couch in my older sisters living room, laughing heartily at her new plan for us to finish our house- by moving a trailer onto our property and working from there.  I soon realized she was in earnest however, and she asked me if I new anyone who had a trailer we might be able to borrow.  And guess what, I had an answer ready.

Turns out, our friends had let the riverfront property go, and the trailer had been in storage somewhere for some time. I’m not sure they even used it again after our stay there.  And when we asked, they once again graciously allowed us to use it, albeit for a longer period this time.   So apparently we had tackled that awful fridge, not so much for the sake of our friends as for ourselves.  God has a sense of humor I guess.

And now I suppose you would like to see some pictures.  Well, here you go.

The boys are really excited about the whole set up, at least for now, and it is a lot bigger than I remember it being, so that’s always a bonus!  And most important of all, it will allow us to take full advantage of all this wonderful outdoor space, and Lord willing, eventually, our home.

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We spent most of the afternoon over there today, getting things ready for the final move and doing a little yard work. The bulbs we planted years ago are finally up, which makes this place feel more homelike already, despite everything else that still needs doing.

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And a cute baby picture, just because. She spent most of the afternoon happily plucking clover or being raced around the yard in her stroller by her brothers. I am so thankful for a happy baby!

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And I’m thankful, more and more each day, for good friends. We are so blessed!

Your mission, should you choose to accept it…..

Dear Readers,

Next week (Lord willing) will be the beginning of a new era in the life of our family. And, as promised, I am starting the whole process (and hope to continue doing so) by sharing with you what we are about to undertake. The story of how we have arrived in our current difficult position is so long and convoluted that I cannot explain it all here, but along the way, I can’t count the number of times I have been asked the following questions-

“How is the house is coming?”
“What do you have left to do on it?”
“Is it at least livable?”
“Do you know when you might get into it?”

And perhaps the most frequent of all-

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

I hope to answer these questions in the following post.

They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, and if we had known eight years ago what was going to transpire in our lives, what with job loss and financial upheaval, family emergencies and unexpected moves, (not to mention another baby and another and another) we never would have bought the house. But wise or not, we did it, and against all odds, we are still the owners. As I posted before, we have reached the point where it has become necessary to do something desperate. This will be the last try. If we don’t succeed, we will at least know that we have done everything in our power, and we trust God to open another path for us.

So, you asked how the house was coming on? What do we have left to do on it? Well, here is where we are at-

This is the front of our house. As you can see it has lovely dormer windows and an enormous porch. The entire front of the house needs to be scraped, sanded and repainted. The windows (throughout the entire house) need to be replaced, and the hubby is custom building them himself. These are just two “small” projects that need to be tackled.

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This is me, walking around the exterior. You will notice that about half of it is painted a different color than the original yellow, and all the windows are boarded up. We have had to go to some length to keep the burglars (and pigeons) out.

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This is the yard. Oh man, I feel like I would be willing to live just about anywhere to call this yard our own- even a trailer. The trailer has not yet arrived, but will go in the back corner where the parking area is. The boys have already marked out the spots for their new forts.

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I just realized I forgot to take any pictures of the front yard. It’s a good sized front yard that we leveled out a few years ago and ambitiously planted bulbs and trees. The bulbs and trees are starting to bloom, which seems like a good omen.

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You ask if the house is livable? I’ll let you decide by showing you the interior.
It’s a little difficult for me to share these with you, because it makes me feel vulnerable, like the whole world can now see what a mess we have to tackle. But I’m going recklessly on in hopes of some really amazing before and after shots down the road.

When you enter the house you are welcomed in, not by one, but by two living rooms.
The left one (which will hopefully be a library)

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And the right. It already has a functioning wood stove set up, so we won’t freeze to death if we haven’t finished before next winter. There is also a piano. We have to warm the soul as well as the body, right?

As you can see, the entire house needs to be wired and sheet rocked before anything else can be done. You might notice lots of empty blue electrical boxes which once upon a time were wired and ready to go. But stolen copper is good money apparently. So all that has to be redone.

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Walk through that room, and you arrive in my kitchen, the size of which makes me feel a little giddy. It’s not quite ready for cooking, unfortunately.

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And such a large kitchen needs a corresponding dining room. As soon as we move over there, I am tearing down the plywood on these enormous window holes. It will be such a beautifully light-filled room.

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I’m not bothering to show you any of the four bathrooms, (FOUR BATHROOMS!) or the enormous laundry room, (LAUNDRY ROOM!) since they don’t look like much yet. There are two very large bedrooms on the ground floor- our Master Suite, of which it is hard to get a good angle-

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And the guest suite, which is currently home to eight years worth of our excess stuff. The reason it looks so jumbled is that it has been ransacked on a few occasions by a person (or persons) unknown. Whoever they are, I hope they are enjoying all my old books. (Grrrr). My first job will be to go through this room, reorganize and probably throw most of it away. Fun!

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All right, bear with me- this is a huge house. Let’s head upstairs, shall we?

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This is the view at the top- the door to “The girl’s room.”

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We have called it the girl’s room ever since we started on the house. I am so glad we finally have a girl to put in it! Although it does seem like an awful lot of space for one little peanut, who currently lives in this much space.

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To get to the boys room you cross this large open area we aren’t sure what to call- the den? The playroom? The ‘what on earth am I gonna do with so much space?’ room?

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20150317-224237.jpg Oh, but wait- it goes around the corner too, and ends in some secret tunnels Daddy built in, just for his boys.

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Oh, and then there is this room. Just an extra, you know, for whatever.

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But the best of all, is of course, my own especial room, to do whatever I want with. There will be a lock on the door and much crafting within.

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So then you asked, “When do you think you might be able to move in?”

Well, I hope you have seen that we have a looooong way to go before this house can become a home. That is obviously the scariest and riskiest part of this whole venture. There is simply no guarantee and no timeline in place. All I can really say is, the sooner the better. Which leads me to your last question-

“What can we do to help?”

Oh friends, the time has come for me to be very transparent. This is not an easy thing for me.
There are two things that we need- skilled labor and money. My hubby is one of the most skilled laborers I know, but he is one man and he is finite. If he must, he will build this house one inch at a time over the next twenty years. Obviously, this is not ideal, and we would like to be able to hire out most of the work. But without going into financial detail, we are stuck. We don’t have the money to finish the house, and yet we cannot keep the house if we do not make this last effort. We have prayed so long for an answer to this conundrum, but it has seemed insurmountable. My hubby has worked tirelessly over many years now to build his fledgling business, and has accomplished amazing things. But it is a fledgling business still. I would like to build my own business as well, but cannot without a larger space.

Then one day a friend suggested that I just ask people for donations.

I snorted- I scoffed- my pride recoiled at the suggestion. But the idea wouldn’t leave me alone. A thousand objections arose, but still it nagged. I wrote my family about it, asking advice- they said I should do it. I still resisted.
Then one night, before I went to bed, I asked the Lord to make it clear what we should do. Before I even closed my eyes, a message pinged on my ipad. It was a facebook friend, not someone I am particularly close with, but someone who apparently had been thinking of us and our situation. She simply asked if I had ever considered setting up a fundraiser so that people who would like to see us get into our house could donate. Stunned by the timely message, I asked her if she had been talking to my family at all lately. Perhaps they had mentioned the idea to her. She said no- that the idea had just popped into her head.
Well folks, what would you do?
I caved.
So without any more hemming and hawing, I am here today to ask if you would consider helping us reach our long-awaited goal by donating to the following site.
http://www.gofundme.com/pctz2w

And of course, if you are not in a position to help financially, any and all prayers would be most welcome!
We (and the children) thank you!

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