Wednesday, February 2, 2011

moving out...moving on



         
I became ill three weeks after I purchased my condo. While my little home has been a haven, shouldering the financial burden when corporate disability did not pay for months on end was daunting. As if a fourteen month delay two years ago didn't resonate, the seven-month delay this past year did. To reinstate the coverage, medical tests were repeated. This time with no health insurance, out-of-pocket, an increasingly shallow one. The Lord's Prayer took on new meaning. Asking humbly for my daily bread was very real. I kept this home only because of the generosity of friends and strangers. Suddenly, dusting took on new meaning. 
Thank you, Lord, for the privilege. 
Now, out of the blue, I've received an offer to rent my place. 
Another gift. 


"Serenity"
48 x 72
A housewarming gift to myself, this painting echoed my journey four years ago.
I call it "Big Girl"... mea culpa,  o creative one, mea extremis culpa.
I've enjoyed this home. Coming on the heels of the collapse of my house in 2002, which insurance didn't cover, I sense a trend or some cosmic message. Perhaps I am born to be a renter. Whatever the meaning, I am grateful that life trumped my arrogance with a humility born of fatigue. Thomas Merton wrote that a tree honors God by being a tree. When I read this years ago, I was struck by his words. To be made in the image of God is to be perfectly ourselves.  Perhaps the journey is a treasure hunt, recognizing bits of truth here and there, integrating each into the whole being...the road to authenticity. 



My daughter, Adrienne had this  made for me in Venice, during her semester abroad
while an architecture student at Auburn University.  She drug this fragile piece through
several countries and on a very long flight home without so much as a wrinkle.  
I love this girl.


The night before Adrienne was born, I saw Chariots of Fire. One scene in that movie remains vivid.  The sister of the missionary/Olympic runner is frustrated that her brother "wastes" time running.  She confronts him, saying that he should spend his time evangelizing. Frustrated, she asks, "Why do you run?"  His answer:  "I run because God made me fast.  And when I run, I feel His pleasure."  Foreshadowing? I don't know but my daughter became a runner.  And now, I feel God's pleasure. I admire those who were more fully formed early in life. But every step I have taken has brought me to a place of acceptance. Ah, yes, George Eliot, 
"It is never to late to become what you might have been."  

I sense no hesitancy nor do I seek a geographical cure. Past wounds have healed. Adrienne confirmed this in an email before my Irish jaunt. "Mom, you've been stuck in the rinse-repeat cycle too long. Go for it." This is a letting go of a different sort. Yes, there is risk. But there is risk every time I cross the street. Twenty-one months without pay taught me lessons about the illusion of security. I am excited about this new chapter. And so is my checkbook. A bit of income and out I go!!!


As we looked down the hill at the hole that had been the front of my house, my friend asked,
"How on earth are you going to make it?" I answered with a bravery I didn't feel, "With grace, bailing wire, and all the broken bits." That Christmas, my art-gifter, Adrienne, unaware of the conversation, gave me this "found art" cross,
a tangible reminder of words given to me that fateful day.


This past week has been incredible...a time of gratitude, reminiscing, and a few tears.  
Amazing grace.  Strength for the journey.  
May God bless ALL our broken roads.
Amen.

A preview of coming attractions:
yes, Virginia, there's a Buddha in the bedroom
a song from my son
do you want to get well?

3 comments:

RosieJo said...

Swiped your George Eliot quote for my Facebook page. So appropriate today! You are my inspiration, dear.

Anonymous said...

Please tell me you are moving close to water....I am so glad that you have rented the condo.
This was beautiful. It was like walking through your home, and you telling the stories about the pieces. I am so happy that a new chapter is beginning for you.

I cannot wait to read: do you want to get well? I was told these words again today. These words make me very angry now.

I look forward to reading your blog. I do find it inspirational. I also find it helpful living with the past, appreciating today, and having hope that the future will be what I need.

Celeste said...

Oh, how I love these intersections. Telling our stories... gift to ourselves, our legacy to others.

I pray that the suffering you feel today be fertile ground in which seeds of healing are being planted.

Love and light