Well, it looks like we won't be able to stay in our home and facing another move is overwhelming me. We have been renting and trying to purchase this house via short sale and after a year of heartache, headache and hoops, some bozo lender negotiator got greedy and said "no" to an offer comparable with what the even nicer houses in the neighborhood are selling for. It has been such a roller coaster ride that to have it end at a red tape brick wall is just really tough. It is not officially over yet, but I hear the fat lady warming up.
I have not been handling the news well. As far as those who are displaced go, we are the lucky ones. This is not a foreclosure. This is not a fire. This is not hurricane Katrina. This is just not getting what I want. Somehow, the knowledge that I am being a big baby does not comfort me. I still want what I want for my family and this made so much good sense!!
Through it all, my friends have helped me to see the bigger picture. I recently likened this to being swept out to sea with all my friends on the shore hollering in, "it is shallow water, just stand up!" or "It's a rip tide, just relax and go with it!" or "It IS a great white shark but he thinks you are a seal and once he tears off your leg he will swim away!" The bottom line is - they can see what I can not see in this sea.
Recently I heard a horrible story about someone my husband knew from work. A mother and her young daughter were wading in shin deep water, got caught in a rip tide and swept out to sea. Both were drowned. This was devastating news of course, and upon hearing it, I vowed never to go to the ocean with my kids again. I am from the Midwest, where people are sensible enough not to have an ocean. My husband from NJ however, said, "you just have to know what to do in a riptide. You relax and let it take you and spit you back out". (Again, why am I not comforted by this notion?)
However, I think that is precisely the voice of sanity in this news I have received about our house. Let it take me and spit me back out! The notion of spitting back out brings up another story of the sea. I try to see the whales every year around mother's day when they are migrating north. A couple of years ago we were lucky enough to find a pod of killer whales - a menacing, beautiful, street gang of the sea. They were chasing this poor fat bird. This pitiful creature whose name escapes me, seemed to be a cross between a duck and a pigeon and was half flying half running to get away from them. I was watching this with the scientist on board and of course expressing my horror at the limitations of this poor flightless victim. The guide said, "She could fly away if she would spit out her food". Apparently, these guys gorge on the same fish that may attract the orcas. They get so fat they can not fly, but by regurgitating they are once again airborne. BOY OH BOY CAN I RELATE! (On so many levels, but bulimia is not where I am going with this analogy or in my life). I have to spit out my vision of this house, and my plan for the next 5 years, our neighbors, the home school community and worst of all my DREAD of moving again! I need to just let the rip tide take me and spit me out where I am meant to be. I need to be willing to spit out our stuff if we end up in a smaller house. I have to let go. Right now, I am spitting mad. I need to just stop at spitting.
I am standing at the closed door unwilling or unable to find the window of opportunity to scramble out of. However, I am keeping my ear to the ground and my mind on the sea and my hands folded with the folded hands of those whom I have placed my soul's care. Though I can not see the shore, the prayers and support of my friends has been a real life saver. I know I am buoyed by God and I firmly believe I am in good hands. I just need to let go and let the waves take me where they will.
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