Rock & Wood

I skim read the local paper everyday online.  Today, I read an article about this continuing trend.  Really?  Real estate prices drop 13%?  Is this good news for my family and me?

It has been 8 weeks since we moved into our new digs.  It has been 2 months of a seriously rich summer.  We've had hours of time to process our experience and what lessons we can honestly carry away with us.  Our hearts have grown in spite of what we own.  As it turns out,  I am ambivalent about housing prices as I read The Union this morning.

My friend Petra gave me this little house with a family in it.  Again, the lesson washed over me. Just the idea that a friend could pass a small piece of pained wood to me, and know me so fully, made me feel home.  It made her real estate in my heart go up just about 13%.

Loaves and Fish

We are made up of many parts. Body, mind and spirit. I realize that much of what I have been blogging about here is spirit. There is the physical dwelling (body) that we need to make sound choices about (mind) and what really is important in the long-run for our journey (spirit). I'm a spiritual person. I know my take on controversial subjects such as politics, money and religion are different than yours, and that is okay with me. If it isn't okay with you, then you won't like my post. I'm giving you an out here........

Moving on.

Not paying my mortgage for 3 months, and selling our house short has been nothing, if it hasn't been a spiritual experience. I have learned who I am, and what is important to me, and how tightly I hold to ideas which are not sacred, but seem safe. I have learned the true meaning of integrity. Things are seldom what they seem, and I have no authority to make a call one way or another when something is not my concern. You live well, and I'll do my best too. I can only speak for me, which is why I'm going to talk about a story from the life of Jesus in my blog about real estate.

There is a time in the life of Christ where He was talking to many many people for a long long time. Everyone was hungry and all of them were far from a place to get something to eat. Those close to Jesus asked to let everyone be dismissed to get dinner. In typical Jesus fashion, he gave a cryptic command. He said to them, 'you feed them'. The disciples pushed back, and asked how they were to feed 5,000 people without food or money (good question). He told them to go and see how much food everyone had if they combined all the food. They found 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish. Jesus gave thanks for the food, and served 5,000 people with that small amount. All the people were full, well fed, and there was food left over.

Flash forward to 2 Fridays ago. My house is packed in boxes. The only things I have, my body, mind and spirit, are tired and weak. I look around and feel alone. Maybe not physically alone, but even so, my kids are at school, my husband is at work, and I'm packing and cleaning from dusk 'till dawn. My mind tells me some bad things:
I am alone (I am tired and not thinking clearly. Clearly I am not alone.) Who has willingly done something so stupid, as to practically give the only possession we have of potential worth to a mega-institution so they can make money on it? I'm asking myself this because I hate moving, and organizing all my stuff, and because I'm tired. If I sit down too long, then it won't EVER get done. I'm going mad a bit. Where are my socks, where are the keys to the mail box, what box to the thumb-tacks go in, where is my cat and have I fed him?
As you could imagine, my spirits were low.

At 3 p.m., what seems to me a miracle of Biblical proportions occurred . My friends and family descended, without call, on my house. In 4 hours, nearly every piece of furniture and all the boxes were at our new house. The next day by 2p.m. my whole house was moved, and nearly unpacked in the new house. I was participating, but in a fog. My mind was cloudy with proximity of possessions, and fumes from cleaning solution. I mopped my self out of every room of that old place, and got sniffling into the car and came home to a new place. 15 people hauling and cleaning and loving my family. Beyond those 15 were scores of well-wishers, calling and asking if there was anyway they could help.

This is the part I thought some might not like, the folks who don't want to read anything about the story of Jesus are already out, at this point. Here is where I'm drawn back to this story of Jesus. Yes, maybe he did spontaneously generate enough seafood and bread to feed the masses. He might have, I'm not saying he didn't, I'm just saying maybe he didn't.

Maybe the people who He was teaching that day were moved enough to share what they had. They might not have been at first before they met Him. Maybe they had the food the whole time, but were unwilling to share. After listening to Jesus talk for an afternoon, they were moved to share what they had. Maybe that is a part of the miracle.

The real miracle might be that we sometimes guard what we have to give, but when we are moved in love to give, like my friends and family, we can move mountains, or a family of 4 across town.

Thank you all so much for letting miraculous things happen, and being a part of the mystery!

Moving Day

I have more to say about the weekend that we moved, besides these photos.  The weekend was profound for me for several reasons, and I'll organize my thoughts enough to write something.

Now that it has been a week and almost all the boxes are unpacked, I have time to post a few photos.

You Can Take it With You

For sure, these next few days will be bitter-sweet.  I am excited about an adventure, a new location, and a new budget.  I know moving across town isn't super adventurous when your town has a population of 12,000.  I know this because every move we have made in the last 15 years, has been to another state, across the country, with a newborn, or with absolutely no money.
The bitter part is leaving one adventure, a place we purposefully set ourselves down, for another.  This will be the last Sunday I live in this house, and I like this house.  I'm not complaining, but I am feeling sentimental.  If had to leave here because of some fantastic reason or because our house burned down, I would still be feeling sentimental.  Moving because of a short-sale falls somewhere between the two.
The sweet parts of leaving are my memories, and I can have those if I stayed as well.  I'm going to let myself feel tender about it, blog about it, then let it go.  It feels hard, but as it should be.  I'm sure this next week will be strenuous and busy enough that I won't have time to feel anymore about it.

I'm Not Trendy

Watch CBS News Videos Online

Here is a segment from 60 Minutes.  It really just explains more of the same featured in my previous posts.  I feel it is pretty balanced, not making the banks look like terrorists, nor the short-sellers like snakes.  I find it interesting how the media, and therefor 'the whole world' sees our situation.  In a way it is inflammatory.  Since I don't have television, it seems amazing that my choices, made independently of news media, is trendy.
I am anything but trendy.  I wore/wear hand-me-downs and thrift-store clothing.  I sew.  I drink tea.  I like eggplant, pate', and liver.  I don't use a credit card.  I don't like ice cream.  I like square-toed shoes, and staying on dry land.  I'm shy.  If it is a trend, I either am a late to the party (facebook, cell phones, tattoos, running), or was doing it before it was trendy (recycling- really that's all on this list).
This week, as we say goodbye to this house that was our home, I don't feel trendy.  I don't think something that is hard, is likely to be trendy.
I know that paying a mortgage is hard, because it costs money and time, and sometimes too much money, and too much time.  We were faced with the hard choice of doing nothing and living with an unfortunate situation, or being very proactive, and facing the hard task of getting out of a unfortunate situation.  As I tape up boxes of our belongings, it doesn't feel like a trend that is newsworthy.  CBS can't express the tenderness I'm feeling.

And The Winner Is....

This is me.  Clearly.  This is a stack of realtor cards.  If you have never sold a house, or bought a house, you might not know about this, but every time a realtor shows a house, they leave a card.
I kept a dish by the front door, and if you count, 50 realtors showed our house. 50!!!!!  Think about that.  Each one brought with them 2-5 potential buyers with them.  In three months, we had over 150 house guests?  How happy would I be if all of them brought me some nice dark chocolate, and laid it in the dish, instead of card stock?
Did I clean my house to perfection?  You bet I did.  Did I need to? Absolutely not, but I wanted to.  Now, my house is 70% in boxes, and it is hard to tell if it is a mess, or if I am moving.  It is probably both.  This morning after I got the kids out the door, I took a nap!  After this, I'm putting all my fabric into clear plastic bins, so I can see in, and get organized!  After that?  I might fill a box with kid-closet stuff.  This is not the glamourous part of a short-sale, and come to think of it, none of it is too appealing.  I know cable TV shows try to make getting organized, home sales, and yard work alluring, but still it is just dusty, dirt and hard work.
The top card is the realtor who's clients are buying our house.

Dump Run

At this point the ethics, principles, and possibilities in regards to our underwater mortgage have been reduced to this:  elbow grease.

Also, in other news, we do not have a place to live, unless we move in with the folks.  We do have 3 whole weeks to procure housing for ourselves, our children, two dogs, ferrel cat, and broken-down VW Vanagon.  I'm feeling the heat, from the busy end-of-school activities, including overnight camping trips, quilt making, 2 plays, gymnastics practice, dentist appointments, rental acquisition, box-packing, and then just stuff like breathing.