Moving on, Moving in: Vignettes from the New Home

When I had lived in one place for 30 years or so and then found myself having to move as part of the fallout of an unwanted divorce, it was challenging for all sorts of reasons.  One major challenge was just the adjustment to the new, smaller space, requiring careful editing to keep only the most precious and needful things.  Many people have to do this, not just the recently divorced, but the widowed, people in financial difficulties, and those just having to adjust to a smaller space for any number of reasons.

My goal in my new living space, a condo, was to set up the best of my belongings into a little jewel box of a space, making it a pretty and delightful place to live in and to entertain visitors.  It's a process--I'm still trying to figure out the best use of my space and where to put things, but I thought it would be fun to show some of my progress.

I've had pleasant surprises here: it is quieter than I expected, and I find I am comforted by seeing the tall trees outside my windows, lovely visions blue sky and green leaves, so I am not missing my yard so much as I thought I would.  I have a few potted plants on my patio and will add more.

The small space has done an interesting enlargement of my soul.  I've had to learn greater trust in God than ever since my marriage fell apart, when the dearest person of my heart no longer wanted me.  I had to go back to my foundation, the Rock, the solid stone that supports me when all else is sinking sand. When I reluctantly went to live in this condo and left behind the years of memories in the old house, God blessed me with a newfound  peace and a loveliness here that was quite marvelous.

Another thing I'm doing in my new space is using my "nice" things.  I've always been a stickler for not waiting for a special occasion to get out the good china and silver, to put on perfume, to burn a scented candle, to buy flowers, etc.  For my own wedding, I was given my grandmother's sterling cake and meat serving pieces, still in their original box with the tissue paper rotting around them, which she had received as a gift at her own wedding. I was appalled to learn that she never used them her entire life, never had an occasion "good enough" to get them out.  I decided then and there not to let that sort of thing go on in my own life.  So the good china tea cups are used daily here, with pleasure, along with a great many other lovely things.

But there are still packing boxes with stuff to make decisions about.  A lot is going back to the old house, where an estate sale will take place to clear a lot of my old antique store merchandise since I no longer have any place to keep it.

 Like I said, it's a work in progress--I put things away and then take them all out and move them somewhere else.  People assure me that's a normal part of moving, but I guess it's been so long since I moved that I've forgotten that part.  I'm relearning lots of things these days.

Come have a cup of tea with me?  

Say Something, I'm Giving Up on You

It always makes me wonder when someone suddenly just refuses to talk any more; what on earth is that about?  I've had it happen more than once, so I am puzzled beyond measure about this behavior.  One friend of many, many years explained it at, least, before she wrote me off forever; I hadn't anticipated a need at a crisis point in her life.  If she had simply expressed the need and what she wanted from me, I would have been there, doing it, in a heartbeat.  But because I didn't realize her expectations, she no longer wanted to talk or see me at all.  After years of relationship with her as she watched my children grow up, after decades of shared secrets and talks about God, the universe and everything, after endless cups of tea, endless laughter and tears-- then suddenly, nothing.

But she's not the only one.  There have been the boyfriends who were so very, very attentive, talking to me daily, then disappearing like a puff of smoke with nary an explanation to be heard.  That one, at least, I understand: someone else flipped the hem of her skirt at them and their attention was easily distracted. SQUIRREL!

It still hurts, though, when you reach out, ask to talk things out, ask to think it over, ask to stay in touch, and you are left with only the echos of your own importunate voice in an empty room.

Change Happens Anyway

Due to the unwanted divorce, sometime around the end of the year I will be moving from the home where I've lived for decades into a condominium, much smaller than this.   This house, on the other hand, has an outbuilding, an attic, a garage, all full of items.  As a dear friend pointed out to me, "You only have a few months; you need to start getting rid of things."

I learned long ago that it's just "stuff."  God can replace it if I need it down the road.  Harder than divesting myself of the stuff is divesting myself of the place itself.  I invested myself in this home, raised my kids here, planted trees and shrubs and flowers and herbs, decorated, remodeled, planned, dreamed.  Dreamed of having grandchildren delight in the big yard and the chickens and cats, my over-the-top holiday decorations, and the cakes and cookies I would love to make with them, but that particular dream won't happen here for me.

So now I am realizing that this is the last spring in this home, and I'm starting to say goodbye to it with each season.  The sweetness of the pink jasmine bloom came and went, but is now  replaced by the night blooming jasmine going full tilt, scenting the entire neighborhood in one huge exaltation of perfume.  The gardenias and roses also delight.

Bittersweet, this recognition of loss.  But I trust God for my tomorrows, for new things that He can only do if I let go of the old things.  I'm ready, or at least, I'm getting ready.

I've become accustomed to being alone a good deal of the time: unwanted divorce, kids grown and off living lives of their own.  I've heard all the arguments about the wonderful freedoms one gains with being single, but I haven't found those freedoms to be worth the losses, and one loss I noticed most keenly in a very simple fashion last night.

I was visiting dear friends and their extended family while they were in town for a brief visit.  Looking forward to seeing their new baby for the first time, it was a special evening.  While we waited for the baby to wake up, we ate, talked, laughed together. The evening was sweltering, so the young mother was reaching behind, braiding her hair to get it off her neck, and I asked her to let me do it.  I took her hair in my hands, soft and lovely and fine in texture, and without a comb or brush, I wove it into a very imperfect French braid.  I had no idea, before I started, of all the memories that would well up inside me of similarly doing this for my own daughters, and  they made me aware how much I missed doing such simple services that involved the human touch.

Soon I was given the chance to hold the baby after he woke up.  Utterly charming, he smiled and reached out to be held and to touch everyone.   When I cuddled him, I realized, once again, how much I miss such simple things that I once took for granted on a daily basis for years.  No grandchildren of my own yet to fill this gap.

A friend spoke to me recently of the idea of "skin hunger," the need for human touch.  It is a real thing, a real ache, and I'm sure a sore place that many people aren't even quite aware exists in them, or have any idea how to fix.  Some try by reaching out sexually to strangers or people they barely know, but that only increases the emptiness if there is no  real love behind the expression.   Last night, touching and being touched by people I love, was sweet.  If you have it regularly, cherish it.

The Eggstacy of Spring

Just getting down my Easter decorations this time of year makes me happy: I've been collecting eggs for years and seeing them again each spring gives such pleasure.  Sure, the carefully wrapped sugar eggs have a few nicks and spots, but they are still essentially intact.  Sure, a porcelain bunny here and there has lost his ears and a fragile, gorgeously painted chicken egg has bitten the dust, but with so much beauty and abundance that remains, I cannot long focus on the losses.

Spring has sprung here (sorry, all you Canadians and Northerners still suffering in snow, but bear with me for now), and outside is a riot of bloom and fragrance.  The pink jasmine is fighting to outdo the orange trees for waves of sweetness upon the air, and I'd be hard pressed to say which is more heady and more beautiful  The roses, daffodils and grape hyacinth are also at it, but one must get closer to them to absorb their scent, lovely as it is.  Leaves are popping out on the tree branches again and the grass is green and plentiful.  The few hens I have left are getting into the season and laying like crazy.

Such abundance is breathtaking.  I think all the eggs I've collected as Easter decorations reflect this: the goodness, provision, promise of new life, of renewal, of hope that God brings.  Easter is all that in the sweetest package imaginable.  I pray you open your heart to all God has for you  this Easter, for He is the root of all abundance.

For the Love of the Dance, Part 2

Some time ago I wrote about the local Victorian dance venue at Pasadena, but there is another local Victorian dance group that might be closer for some of you, and it's well worth investigating.

Suffragettes, celebrating Susan B. Anthony's birthday

Some of the same lovely people attend both events, some just one or the other, but all are charming, happy folk who simply love dancing and often, dressing in period clothing.  No costume is required to attend, however, and this group in Simi Valley is less expensive than the other, if you are watching your nickels and dimes in this tight economy.  Only $5.00 is charged for the Simi Valley Vintage Dance Society events, and they have not only Victorian dance, but also English Country Dance and Waltz and Polka practice.

Terri Wilson and friend

Tom Wilson and Debi Smith

Tom Wilson is our esteemed host,  and calls the dances for us.  He teaches every dance, every time, so there is no need to feel like your skills are not up to par--there are always beginners amongst us, and they are made to feel very welcome.  You will learn the dances as we go--we are often learning new ones right along with you.

There is nothing quite like the fun of dancing with good friends and enjoying the moment, unless it's getting to play dress-up, too!  Come dancing!

Lovely Autumn Evenings

The days grow shorter and the air is finally cooling off, and the earth seems to be breathing a deep sigh of autumn winds, picking up the leaves and blowing them in gusts of crimsons, browns, and  golds. The wealth of the earth, the reminder of God's blessings, awaits us in harvest and Thanksgiving.

As the nights encourage a fire in the fireplace or just kindling the long lost desires of our hearts, there is a desire for comfort and warmth.  A favorite autumn evening treat is pictured here: the perfectly ripe pear, a lovely bit of gorgonzola, and glass of port.  These are some of tastes of autumn, but I have others to look forward to as well--my roommate has requested a pumpkin pudding, and I have already bought the mincemeat for the Thanksgiving pies (mincemeat will be doctored with fresh apple, raisins, and rum).  I have been hoarding the Spanish hot chocolate I bought last year; I think now it's time to break it out and enjoy.  What autumn delights are you enjoying, or planning to enjoy?