Saturday, April 5, 2008

Rain Before Sunshine

All the fears of Recession aside, our house is under contract within two weeks (and the one we wanted to buy in two days—although not to us!), with a waiting list to boot. Sure it is a great house. Sure the neighborhood is hotly desirable. But I think the great ball of Change once embraced is on a roll that cannot be stopped. We are taking a scary ride that tests so many core values.

On the surface, the home we built has established roots and defined a story: a room for each of us, space for our guests and activities, a garden to bloom all summer, and a basement of skis and exercise equipment for winter. The fire glows warmly at night, and there is plenty of candy handed out on Halloween.
The price to own such comfort, however, has come with a burden threatening my very heart. The story is way too long and personal to be of much use, but the truth of the struggle stares me in the face and corrupts my spirit until there is no other choice but to face the reality and seek another solution.

Some solace comes in understanding that True Bravery is recognizing the age old adage that Change, no matter how painful, can be an opportunity. One can be proud for stepping away from zones of comfort into anxious visions of uncertain developments. There is honor in motion of any kind.

Yet all of that rings hollow against a lifetime of training that house, home, cars, memberships, and vacations define most of us, to ourselves and to others. Movement is expected to be forward, upward: a bigger house, a better vacation, a nicer car, a fatter bank account. We are supposed to move forward, but we believe it should be toward goals that are pretty specific.

Instead, I have accepted that reaching this ledge, where I now rest and gaze out, has been a truly difficult journey. I have made choices, whether by circumstances or inclination, that have caused pain and suffering to many, especially to the ones I cherish the most. We all have paid dearly, and struggle still to see the Love and happiness that can illuminate the spaces right before our very eyes.

Brave it may be to accept that I want to choose a life more sane and sanguine. How fortunate that equity gained by this sale will unburden several weights on my shoulders. Glad I am to envision a life to be afforded by honest effort instead of distracted promises.

Yet tears of regret, like clouds of rain, still cast a darkness upon my heart.

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1 comment:

Debra said...

Good luck on the next stage of your journey. Your mixed feelings resonate with me, but I think it's part of life. I'd hate to leave behind a home and not feel sad. What would that say about the all that time I'd spent there?