Ubi caritas Deus ibi est

Well, folks - I'm officially in the new house. Yesterday was a rough day for me: little sleep, my parents headed home, and I was an emotional mess. I didn't get much sleep because my dad, selfless man that he is, was pounding away on some reducer and quarter-round at 1 am - so that the floors were officially done ... when he and Mom hit the road just 5.5 hours later.

When I woke up at 1am to my dad hammering away, the Holy Spirit had queued up this song to play: Ubi Caritas.

Ubi caritas et amor

Ubi caritas Deus ibi est.

Where true charity and love exist, God is there.

This photo, take on Saturday night, is my dad figuring out how vinyl plank flooring fits together and installs. Six hours later, he came back to the apartment: flooring fully installed...at 4am...just so that I could move my stuff into my new house 6 hours later.

Where true charity and love dwell...

When I awoke yesterday morning after a very fitful few hours, that song continued to fill my mind and my heart. Ubi caritas et amor...Deus ibi est.

I wanted to recount just some of the ways that people have showered me with love and charity in this move:

When I realized that Home Depot couldn't install flooring with 2 weeks notice, I texted my friend whose brother does drywall - and he learned how to install floors (he did the first floor and started the second floor);
When I painted and had some amazing helpers who even brought lunch: Trevor & Dustin, Leslie, Brian & Kim and the kids;
When I Chad tore out the carpet on the first floor and carted it away for me;
When Williamston Glass came and gave me an estimate to reglaze my windows and when scheduling the appointment, she said, "You must have made an impression. He came back and told his me, "We need to take care of her;"
When Uncle Fred painted the second coat on my kitchen on a Monday night;
When Linda packed up my kitchen over 2 days and came back to clean;
When Mom & Dad drove 22 hours to spend 72 hours with me - finishing packing, learning how to and then installing a floor, unpacking, purging...

When Kimmi, Nate, Charles, Tim, Chastin, Jordan, Scott, Lonnie, Fred, Alex, Karen, Chad, Grant, and Brian helped move all the stuff out and into the house in less than 3 hours from a 3rd floor apartment, 
When Dean cooked us all a delicious meal to cap off the in and out of moving day,
When Mom, Linda, Polly, Karen, Karen, Kim and Brenna helped with the unpacking....

 

A toast to new chapters and Dan Kiesling: Clear eyes, full hearts: can't lose.

 
When it came time for my parents to drive the eleven hours west, I could hold back tears no longer. My heart is full to bursting with such love and true charity shown toward me. As I reflected on this and the song continued to play, I realized this is the theme of my house.

Ubi caritas et amor Deus ibi est.

Where true charity and love dwell, God is there.

Abide. Abode.

 

What Grief Feels Like: Wave Pool

For those of you who are not my Facebook friends, here's a piece of news for you: I bought a house! It's a quaint little 1900 house in my favorite Michigan hometown. It's hard to believe I signed almost two weeks ago - and will be fully moved in less than a week.

The day of the signing, I posted on Facebook that I was feeling very overwhelmed. People kept asking me if I was excited, and honestly, I felt anything but excitement. I felt mostly overwhelmed. Like you've taken me to the edge of the sand, shown me the ocean, told me that something exciting is just beyond that horizon...but, I don't believe you because all I see are the waves.

My Facebook memory that day had pulled up a quote a friend had shared from 1 Peter: May the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus abound as you grasp more and more the hope of our call. Two years ago, while we were going through Dan's treatment - I saw those words as a prayer we should pray for all those when we are tempted to say trite, worthless lies like: God doesn't give you more than you can handle. Stop saying that - and start saying, "I will pray for you that even in this overwhelming circumstance that the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus will abound for you that you will come to know with more assurance the hope of our call, of his firm love for us and our security in that love" - because that is the only thing worth meaning.

I digress. I posted that asking for my friends to pray for me as I prepared to sign for my house. ...and all the stress I had felt gripping me for the previous two days melted away - and I felt overwhelming peace before, during, and after the signing. SUCH PEACE. Amen. God is good.


So, now it is crunch time. It is get the shit in the boxes time. Moving starts at 1:30 pm on Sunday (if you're looking for a fun time for a couple hours. I promise I'll make it worth your while).

...and tonight, while I started packing the bathroom closet, I got bowled over by this:

Those are beach towels - which for any of our Tucson friends might look familiar. For those new to our story, our Tucson home had a pool. (which was impossibly to keep blue. IM.possible.) We loved hosting our friends and family when they visited in the pool - and kept towels on hand for those in need. 

I pulled seven beach towels from the top shelf and placed them in the box...thinking about Tucson. ...and then thought, "when will I ever need this many beach towels in Michigan?" ...and that thought began a spiral into the what was, and what will not ever be wave pool. 

Wave Pool. If you've been to a water park, you've ventured into the wave pool. It's tolerable - a little constant motion of the waves moving you back and forth...and then, as you get a little deeper, it gathers force pushing you back and pulling you deeper, water breaking against your body.

I mentioned via text to my friend Leslie that I felt a little weepy. I tried to explain why...and then the tears came. Once they started, it became a sob. ...and then gasping sobs, holding onto the door frame while your whole body grieves for what has been lost - both what was, and what will not be. 

I hadn't experienced that level of grieving for a while. ...not since returning from Ireland - so (exactly) three months ago. 

Beach towels.

and curtains. 

"They" say that you don't know what will trigger you...and I guess that's true. ...and there's no need to try to figure it out. What is needed is that you let yourself enter into and endure the wave pool. Because you know what happens in the wave pool? It subsides. It stills. It is not constant. It is not forever. ...but, you have to let yourself feel it or you will not reach the stillness of healing.

Yesterday's Gospel reading (Luke 12:13-21) is the parable of a man with an abundant harvest who decides that he will build bins and storehouses, as a way to ensure that he will never be in want - and will never have to rely on God again - because he has provided for himself and ensured his provision for years to come. The warning to him comes: "You fool, don't you know that this very night your life will be demanded of you, and the things you have prepared - to whom will they belong? So it will be for all who store up treasures for themselves, but are not rich in what matters to God."  

That reading, especially that line sat with me. As my grief wave began to still, I remembered, "for one's life does not consist in possessions." ...I don't need 7 beach towels. I don't. There are people who do; these are nice towels. They should be shared - and used - and not stored in boxes growing musty and dusty. 

One's life does not consist in possessions. 

Use your possessions to make memories with people. People. 

Be rich in what matters to God: people. 

My people, may grace and peace abound to you through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Pool "Party"

Ah, the joys of home ownership...when your new home comes with a pool.

Personally, buying a new home would be much easier if the previous owners left a "to-do" list of how they maintained their home. The previous owners of our house were here for nearly 40 years - essentially the life of our house. Since we are not only new to home ownership, but also new to life in Arizona (read: keeping grass alive in the desert), as well as pool maintenance - a little list of "this is how we kept everything that was supposed to be green, green - and the pool, blue" would have been a God-send.

Ah, shoulda-woulda-coulda. It didn't happen, and so, we've been learning by trial-and-error the last 10 months. One of the biggest areas of trial-and-error has been the pool. I have already regaled our trials with the pool - so I'm not revisiting those.

Early last summer, we were informed by one of the local pool companies that our water was so saturated with chemicals that the water molecules couldn't "latch on" to what chemicals were being added. So, we planned to empty the pool this spring and refill it.

About a month ago, we got a wicked windstorm/rainstorm. A lot of leaves and dirt got deposited in our pool. Then, a week or two later, another came. So, the pool got pretty dark. Then, Dan went out of town and our "Kreepy Krawley" (the thing that sucks up stuff from pool) wasn't sucking a lot. So, I got to "learn" the ins and outs of the pool...and, the pool just kept getting darker.

So, yesterday, we rented a submersible pump and 100 ft of hose. As the water drained, Dan and I took turns "sweeping" the sides of the pool - so the rings around the pool aren't as pronounced as they could be. With all the rings in our pool, maybe we should start referring to it as Saturn....

It looks much grosser than it really was. It smelled like a lake. (and why wouldn't it with all that algae?)

In the bottom were decaying leaves, one itty-bitty lizard (pretty gross), a plastic label from the Kreepy, and a metal, rectangular form from paper lanterns that we had hanging up this summer. We noticed rust imprints on the bottom of the pool, but couldn't figure out what it was. Then, I was looking closer and realized what it was. 

Sometime soon, we are going to rent a power-washer to attack those rings. 

Typically, pools get acid-washed, but we've been informed that our pool is so old that it can't be acid washed. One company gave us an estimate for refinishing the pool at $10,000. Um, no. Sorry. I think we'll need to "come into some" money for that to happen. So, hopefully, we can just refill this and in another year thinking about refinishing the surface. .....

Ah, the joys of home ownership. Maybe we should start charging pool user fees.... ;)