A Rock Home Companion: Through My Fingers
The property here with this rock house has many old buildings. The outhouse is at the very back with a tree through the seat. It’s caddywompus, leaning in the same direction as the chicken house. Once upon a time this place had chickens and was a tomato cannery. Now the antique tin waves in the wind. The tool shed is hanging with iron pulleys rusted to hooks. Strangely shaped jars are full of spiders and nails. I’ve loved it that way for so long.
When Grandma lived here, the small coy pond was lined in black-eyed susans and coneflowers. The azaleas were huge, pruned and watered like a woman had made it her day job. And she had.
Now the entire place is tangled in honeysuckle. I don’t love honeysuckle any more. I pull it away like a rope around the neck of my roses. The lilacs still overcome, peeking purple heads out and filling our yard with rich perfume. The wisteria droops way up high from a towering tree. Theses plants, especially the lily bulbs, may be at least 60 years old.
Our boys are the 6th generation to have lived in this house. Grandma planted the yellow roses during World War II while Grandpa was in Italy, the Grandpa with a purple heart who held my firstborn and wept.
But I didn’t know that when I started praying Kingdom Come how it would trump my other requests, even in my own heart. Part of asking the Kingdom here as it is in Heaven is asking for debts to be pardoned: accounts balanced, hurts forgiven, everything aimed at Jubilee.
It wasn’t our plan, but we own two houses – one where friends rent, and this rock house property. I’ve asked Him to do what He does in His strange way to set us free, and then Seth got an email from a very nice family asking if they could buy the Rock House.
They came from far away to view it, twice. And as they were making a decision, our friends in our other house decided to buy that house, too.
I walked the property, crawled through the chicken house, squished my mud boots in the horse field. I buried my face in the lilacs and stood still. The bees and the train whistle.
There’s an ache, but I am not sad, not one little lick.
I packed photographs. What meant to be a ten minute project turned into an hour. One by one, I noted the smoother skin on faces I love. Our lives are beautiful. On to the next thing, and it will be beautiful, too – such a lily, then gone.
I hope to be writing my book in the Fall, settled into a new house. We immediately found one that we love. The thing about it though is that we have to move into it before the end of May! That explains why I have disappeared from the webbernets. My brain is a scramble of furniture and what’s for supper and bow and yard sale and Man boy boy boy boy.
My extroverted heart has sucked up inside itself and has made roughly 67 lists of things to do. I also got the kind of sick that happens when you haven’t rested, the kind where you only use your voice to horse whisper scream that the baby is asleep.
I’ll have a few guest posts, and I’ll write a few, too, but these parts will be mostly quiet. I can’t wait to show you my new house and to settle into a good spot to write. I’ll have an office. I haven’t had a room of my own since I was in high school. It’s a complex, happy thing, but it’s pretty simple, too – all temporary. Let’s hold it, love it, and let it run right through our blessed fingers.
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