|A portion of our new backyard.|
Taken today, after the settlement papers were signed.
March 30, 2012.
One day last June (I think), this poem by Michael DeVernon Boblett that I share at the end of this post was offered as the Meditation Monday on the Unitarian Universalist Association's Facebook page. It spoke to me then (as these UU meditations tend to do) because we were in the midst of selling our previous home and going on our second month with nary a showing (much less an offer or potential buyer) in sight. I had been laid off from my job, a development that took me by surprise. The Husband was more than 300 miles away in our new state, while I was taking care of two kids, packing the house, and keeping the house pristine for the imaginary buyers.
It was a stressful, uncertain, scary time.
|Windows in the family room of our previous home.|
Still, the storms were surely at our walls.
If you are my Facebook friend, you know how stressful these last few weeks, this past year, have all been. I have not made my mother proud with my language used in my posts, and each time my laptop goes on the fritz, I believe it is my father saying he's still able to punish me, at almost 43, even from the great beyond.
And then, earlier this week, I again found these same words by the gifted Michael DeVernon Boblett, the same meditation I read in June, and I remembered: I had saved it to hit publish for when we bought a new house, because it seemed just so apropos.
I did not know, I could not know, how fitting it would still be.
Because as trying as this past year has been (and it has), as this mortgage process has come to a close, these last 36 hours have had me blindsided. My sense of balance and stability and confidence has been rocked, as it has so often this past year. This is the hand in the house of cards that we are dealt in life, I suppose. Beginnings and endings, sometimes in collusion, sometimes unexpected.
We bought a new house today. Signed the papers, sealed the deal, shook the hands.
Weatherwise, it was a day of every imaginable temperature: cold in the morning, then sunny and warm. Tonight, the rains pound and the storms are at our walls.
But what I have learned is that the walls of this house are strong, thanks to some special people we are lucky to have in our lives and because of how we've been tested this year.
I don't know you, Michael DeVernon Boblett, but I thank you for the gift of your words here below. They mean so very much tonight.
by Michael DeVernon Boblett
May the walls of this house be strong in the face of storms:
Whether of winds or of words,
whether of thunder or of tyranny.
May the windows of this house be clear to the world's light:
Whether of dawns or of daring,
whether of sunsets or of stillness.
May the foundations of this house be firm upon the good earth:
Whether of soil or of sharing,
whether of bedrock or of behavior.
May the doors of this house be wide to all that come from afar:
Whether poems or people,
whether songs or strangers.
May this house embrace, like a graceful chalice,
The flame it cannot define or limit,
as a heart enshrines hopes larger than its beating walls.