So I sold my house the other day.
I have never sold a house before, and I have to say it’s not
fun. It’s great when it’s all done for
sure, but the process stinks. There were
people in my house when I wasn’t there, whom I didn’t know. They were looking at my environment in order
to judge whether it was good enough for them, and therefore judging the quality
of my house. Then I realized that as I
am looking for a new house myself I am doing the same thing to others.
Ugh. I give them my sincere sympathy as
I judge their living space for its suitability to my desires. And the funny thing is that this is a
completely acceptable form of hypocrisy!
Oh the joy!
The reason I am selling is because I’ve finally reached a
point where I can take a step forward in the journey of my life. There have been times in my life where blessings
have poured down on me like a torrential rain that has left me breathless. Everything comes together like it was planned
that way when I did nothing but watch.
This is one of those times. Don’t
get me wrong; there have been plenty of times when I didn’t feel blessed at
all, and in fact thought I was plodding through a desert eating sand. I was carried through those times and they
have made the blessings that come after that much sweeter. I can say now looking back that the suffering
is made worth it by the blessing that came after. I didn’t feel that way then though.
This house was a good house for me. It did what it was supposed to do: provide
shelter, safety, warmth. A lot of stuff
happened there; some good, some bad.
Some dramatically bad and life changing.
I learned that a house is not necessarily a home. A house is not defined by the events that
occur within its walls. It only becomes
a home by the spirit with which you imbue it.
So the spirit of my home is completely dependent on me.
For a long time my home was not so welcoming for me. It was a place to sleep. Many years of my life were spent occupying
space in someone else’s home, and so I didn’t have an opportunity to learn how
to make a home for myself. When I was
alone I didn’t know how to “become” my home.
And then I met a woman, and my eyes were opened.
In the process of preparing my house to be sold I needed to
make some changes. There was painting
and landscaping and cleanup. Then it had
to be “staged”.
Staging is an odd concept for me. You have to make the house look like it’s
lived in, but you can’t leave it looking like it has actually been lived in. You have to decorate and arrange it so people
can see its potential rather than its reality.
Believe me when I tell you that my life was spent hiding its potential
with discarded clothes and way too much furniture. I didn’t realize how much “stuff” I still had
that crowded my life until it was gone.
Here is where this woman helped me recognize what I needed
to do.
Brenda has an eye for color and decoration. In fact I would say she is truly gifted in
this area. So when it came time to stage
the house I asked her to take a look at things and see what she could do. So she did, and it changed everything.
When she was done I found that I actually loved this
house. It felt like home again. It was decorated to suit me and be
useful. It wasn’t just a place to take
up space anymore. When I walked in I
realized that if I had understood what to do and how to express it I would have
done exactly what she did.
I told this to my friend Cliff one day and he said, “So she
made your dreams come true?”
“Yes! That’s it!”
She came in and chose to know and understand me, and I
her. I chose to allow her in, and know
her.
It’s ironic, though appropriate, that I got my home after she touched it, and now have to leave it
behind.
This is a good thing, because
now I get to marry her.
Now we get to make
a new home. There will be a better
spirit there, a better purpose. A better
life.
We’ve both been through enough of life that we understand
what we want in our home. We started the
relationship in honesty and have continued to build it that way. So as we look for a new house we look at it
in terms of how it will be suited to conform to our desires.
We will make it ours.
It’s a wonderfully odd thing for me to be able to live in a
relationship without walls. To have an
opinion and have it heard and respected, and still be loved for it whether she
agrees with me or not, and not lose my sense of self in the process. We complement each other in so many ways that
we are starting to finish each other’s sentences.
It’s weird. In a
totally good way though!
Leaving the house itself is actually more difficult than I
expected. When you’ve lived in
one space for long enough there are attachments both good and bad. Buying this house turned out to be the one
decision in my marriage where there was no argument or discussion
necessary. We both felt that this was
the place we needed to be, and being there, for me at least, was a key to my
survival.
My neighbors are also my friends (most of them anyway), and
that relationship overcomes the physical distance that moving will create. So, for a while yet, even though I don’t live
there anymore, I will still automatically drive to that place because that’s
what I’ve done for so long. It’s part of
me.
There is some difficulty in letting it all go. As I went through the process of first
realizing that I still had more stuff than I really wanted, and then getting
rid of it, I uncovered many things I forgot I had. I still had the pins the doctor pulled out of
my hand when I broke it in high school, and my Webelo/Boy Scout badges from my
childhood to name a few.
Once I moved everything out of the house I started the
cleanup. I went from room to room
vacuuming, sweeping, cleaning. As I
finished one room I backed out and closed the door. This room was my room. A lot of history there. This was my daughters’ room. I said goodnight to them there.
Down the hall and into the living/dining area. I spent more time here than anywhere else I
think. All the family activities
occurred here. A lot of wood went
through that fireplace, and I finally got that wood burning insert that I had
always wanted.
Then the kitchen.
Cleaning all the drawers, countertops and shelves for the last time, and
mopping the floor. I backed up to the
door to the garage with the mop, and shut the door for the last time. I loaded up the car with the last of
everything and drove away.
I learned a great deal while I lived there. I learned what real love is. I learned what real commitment means. I learned about promises and sacrifice.
So I walked out of that house a better man than when I
walked in 17 years ago.
Everything I learned there I will take with me and put it
all in our new home. It will serve as a
foundation for what is to come.
Because here’s the thing: I’m not just leaving a house.
I’m changing my destination.
For 17 years every road I have
traveled on has ultimately ended here at this
structure. No matter how far away I was
when I got on the plane or got in the car I took the steps that led me
here. When I turned the corner this
house was always there. At the end of
every day I came to this place.
I’m changing my way
home. Home will be Brenda now, and I
will be Home for her.
No more baby steps.
All big steps, and all in the right direction.
©Dan Bode 2015
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