Lord, Give Us a Sign!!!

 

Oh the roller coaster this last tedious bit has been! Yesterday we had a little white knuckle ride lasting three or four email volleys as we tried to set up the final occupancy permit schedule. All of this, of course, is to allow us that last step of actually being able to sleep in our new little house, something we are quite naturally at this point, very, very anxious to do.

Good news is that all the inspector type folks from whom we needed files have now provided them in all the appropriate places for the city to access. Everyone but the electrical guy, that is. The two small tasks of installing the range hood and properly sealing the sump pump have been completed. We should be all set.

So yesterday, Ken first sent the list of everything we'd done to comply with the 'deficiency report' from December 24, including the pictures of proof requested, asking what the next steps might be.

The reply came back affirmative on all of the above, except for the installation of what's called an ADU sign (Additional Dwelling Unit), a requirement for the purpose of directing first responders in an emergency situation. This seems totally reasonable, of course. There was a note about where to order one, since the specifications of the sign are, well, rather specific.

This caught us by surprise. We knew about the sign, but thought it was only needed for the final inspection which won't happen until the spring. And, of course the idea of 'ordering' one sounded rather untimely. Ken, reading this response to me from his phone, and being understandably frustrated at this point, muttered sarcastically that it would take another six weeks!!

Only, I thought he was actually reading from the email, and that it actually would take another six weeks! In my current anxious-to-be-done-with-all-things-related-to-a-major-and-prolonged-upheaval-due-to-a-move-in-residence emotional state, this was like a gut punch.

I actually had to sit down and just be quiet, and breathe my way back towards that place of surrender this whole big deal has been from the beginning. How deep is my longing, right now, just to be able to wake up in a bed that does not feel temporary, and to fully settle, physically, spiritually, emotionally, mentally, into our own home! But I gave that longing away again, to the One who knows everything and loves me desperately.

Ken responded to the email asking about actual time lines. Then left to continue some work on the church kitchen, leaving behind his phone in his own blithered state.

This is where I picked it up. Our guy at the city - who's been great with us by the way, no complaint here - asked for a phone call to clear things up. I got copied into that email, so I called the number. And here's the real deal.

For occupancy, the city will accept a temporary sign. All that's needed is something clear and well secured, and the understanding that a permanent sign, that complies with the specifications, will be in place before the final spring inspection.

Well okay then!!! Out with the black paint and brushes. Where's an extra piece of lumber? And there you go. This lovely little piece of art was installed at the end of our fence just moments ago.

Big breath.

So, today.

Today we wait for the electrical guy to come by and have a look. And once that's done, we will send that report and a picture of our installed sign to the guy at the city. And, if the time is right, we just might be sleeping here by the time I post next.

I remind myself that this whole endeavour of moving was in response to what Ken and I truly believed was a prompting from God in response to our prayers about how we can best steward our time and earthly possessions in this last era of our lives. We did this on purpose. We keep moving through, this step by step, quite intentionally. It's been a faith-walk the whole way.

Friends, I am soooooooooo looking forward to posting the news that we're all moved in!!! Stay tuned.

[Note: The RY in our address is Canada Post's requirement, standing for "Rear Yard."]

Monday Morning Focus

I am determined to sit down and focus this morning, starting this Monday morning over at the church with Ken. He has his 'Facilities" hat on right now, and is supervising the installation of the new counters in the kitchen here. In coordinating both our needs for the van, and considering the distractions of our new house, I decided to coming along and see what I can get done before heading off to a meeting later this morning.

I have my list open before me and am ready to go, noisy power tools notwithstanding.

We got a LOT done over the weekend in our own kitchen, including the arrival of four major appliances - stove, fridge, washer, dryer.

I'm saving any pictures on all of that until I can do a proper before/after thing, closer to the final kitchen project. But I'll just say here that I am really pleased so far, and grateful for how Ken has worked with me to understand and then put together my 'farmhouse country kitchen' vision, out of 'bits and pieces' we already had.

We also had the help of our very capable son in law to hang two tricky pieces on the wall. One is the upper cubbies that match the bench (not seen) in our entrance area. This one was tricky because it's on the wall that also houses the pocket of the pocket sliding door (to the left), and however it was to be secured to the wall couldn't interfere with that. And...it worked!!!! This isn't the final product decor-wise. But that middle basket and the fabric plant on top are a good enough start for now.

Okay, on to that list. I really have had little concentration for anything but moving in and setting up and making our home a home for us. It's been hard to focus in the midst of the nesting disorder. I have come to understand at an even deeper level the importance for me of having consistent schedules and an ordered environment in order to enhance both productivity and creativity.

No breaking news about occupancy just yet. We did get an encouraging email just now indicating that the final paperwork is actually in progress, and an inspection is happening tomorrow. Oh, so close.

We'll keep you posted, of course.

The Happy Aha!

 

Ken does it better than I do.  Louder and more exuberant.  It’s that noise you make when you discover something you’ve either been looking for specifically, or – and this is the better one – something you forgot about but are really happy to remember you have.  It might also be exclaimed when something fits into a very defined space exactly the way you need it to.

 We’ve been doing a lot of happy ahas in these days of unpacking and renesting.  For Ken it’s finding that one tool, or the way the counter top fits snugly against the wall…even after he’s installed the plumbing.  For me it’s how my books are finding good spaces on the shelves available.  And then, today, how I was able to fit all my pashminas into the basket…the one I said while wincing, “Whatever doesn’t fit in here must go.”

 Aha!

 For someone who admittedly owns a ridiculous amount of both books and pashminas, these are very satisfying moments in the midst of never knowing how the new smaller space will receive what you hope it will.  We did some mighty purging when we emptied our previous house.  We’re doing some more now.  And while I didn’t have to part with any pashminas, I have prioritized and then donated another load of books.  When we get around to hanging pictures, I’m pretty sure we’ll be doing more of the same.

 

But all this leads me to another kind of happy aha, and that’s when you realize you’re making your way through a difficult time and you’re mostly okay.  And by mostly okay, I mean giving yourself all kinds of room to be in these moments, embrace the places of challenge and change, and let it be okay that things aren’t normal, even when that’s what every fibre in your unnested being is longing for.   It’s the happy aha of understanding that these past months of the journey, while long and uncertain, have revealed places of goodness and healing that wouldn’t have been noticed otherwise.   It’s the happy aha of finding out for reals that it’s not stuff or square footage or any geographical space that makes a home.  It’s the Presence of a God who promises to BE home, always and no matter what (Psalm 91).  And it’s knowing that, a previous version of yourself, would have not been able to see any of this, not have managed this well at all.  So – aha – some growth!

Not a bad way to begin a New Year.

No, we don’t have permission to sleep here quite yet.  And anyways, appliances don’t arrive until Saturday, so.  For now, on to more nesting. 

New Year's Reflections On Lag Time

 

I know I’m supposed to be reflecting on the past year right about now.  Usually, I’m all over that kind of thing.  But this year, these last days of December have had me fully in ‘important and urgent’ mode (Steven Covey’s Quadrant One) as we relentlessly and incrementally move into our new home.

We do not yet have the ‘occupancy permit,’ which means we’re allowed to do most anything we like in terms of setting up furniture and unpacking boxes.  We’re even okay to eat and generally hang out here (I’m writing from my new desk space).  But with no beds or any appliances yet, we’re not actually living here.  Not until we get the official okay.

There’s no particular problem or delay on this except that things happened over the Christmas break.  Offices are closed and the people who can give us the go ahead are rightfully enjoying their days off.  This explains why we still have the construction site porta-potty in view out the side window.   And while it is challenging to be ‘this close,’ and I find the disorder psychologically disruptive, we’re embracing this time as an opportunity to get things ready one thing at a time.  There’s some comfort in the little spaces that are starting to come together. 

Yesterday was a ‘big load’ day, with the help of our family who gave us the morning and some muscle, and slogged it out in the rain to fill up two and a half vans from the storage unit and bring it on over to our construction-muddy yard.  We had one crew outside and one inside hoping to keep the new floors looking new.  Along with some strategic pieces of bigger furniture, there were many boxes of books.  And the good news there is that I think we’re coming to the end of the books and I’m finding good places for all of them so far. 

It's coming.

Maybe things are just on a bit of a lag, actually.  I hope to get my Christmas cards mailed out today.  So maybe before the end of January, I’ll be in the right space to reflect back on 2024.  It was a big year, so it deserves some good ponderings and processing. 

However you’re finishing off the year, I hope you find yourself loved, and satisfied, and hopeful.

2025, here we come.

A Happy Blurry Christmas

Okay, so where were we?

Thought I'd poke my head up over the boxes for a minute here, and declare Ken and I 'safe in the midst of moving in over Christmas.'  Feels like I barely have any brain right now, so I hope this post will make sense.  But it's all part of the happy collision of chaos that ensues when your construction site manager springs a Merry Christmas surprise and tells you that 'on Friday we'll be done.'  

That's 'the Friday before Christmas' Friday.  And that's 'done so you can start to move stuff in' done.

We have yet to pass the 'occupancy permit' inspection.  That needs the installation of the exhaust hood over the stove, and the gathering of some paperwork that will be more available once folks get back from their Christmas break.  Appliances won't arrive until January 4th.  And anyways, the butcher block kitchen counter has to be finished before the new farmer's sink has running water.  

This means we can't eat or sleep there for the time being.  Between last Friday and today, however, we've been happily driving over to the storage unit, loading up the van, driving back and unloading, and setting up house incrementally like that.  For some of the more hefty and perhaps awkward pieces, we'll drag in one of our more able-bodied family members, because some things just need more muscle.  As it is, Ken and I could both easily audition for one of those pain medicine commercials where the senior goes to bend over or start up the stairs, and stops to grab their knee or put their hand on their back.  No acting required.

This is a more drawn out kind of moving in that the normal 'rent two guys and a truck and dump everything in all at once' method.  But, aches and pains notwithstanding, we're finding the pace to be manageable.  It means we can arrange pieces of furniture and map out where things go without too much else in the way.  And also that we can unpack a van load of stuff at at time, clearing away the cardboard boxes and bins before we head out for another run to the storage unit.

In all of this we have the great convenience of being mere steps away from the new house.  Our son is not rushing us out the door of his house, in any way at all.  Although it has been helpful to have the extra bathroom, and he is reclaiming some of his kitchen cupboards as we set up our own pantry.

And in the middle of all of this was Christmas.

Christmas with our faith community, and the completely packed out services on Monday and Tuesday nights, and all the excitement and tradition of our largely untraditional way of telling the Nativity story at Highview.  I won't give any spoilers here, but I happen to know we were able to collect a goodly donation for supportive housing in Waterloo Region [Indwell] through the generous donations of those in attendance.

And Christmas with family, some of which happened on Christmas Day and some of which is still to come with a drive out to Stouffville and a visit with Ken's sister and their offspring on Saturday.  Too much food, is mostly what I can say about all of that.  But also, the satisfaction of gifts well-given and well-received, and of the best gift, as smarmy as it sounds but also ridiculously true, of simply being together.  There are aspects of my family's story that make this something of a quiet Christmas miracle every year that I will never take for granted.  

And of course all the pictures and videos of the Christmas celebrations at Hot Springs.  Is there really no way to be two places at one time?  My heart keeps asking.

It's been a lot, I confess.  Still is.  Ken and I are feeling the physicality, and also the mental strain of all the van-loading and all the micro-decisions. I think next Christmas, when I look back at this one, I might be singing about having myself a blurry little Christmas. 

Except, in another way, everything is coming into focus.  There's something about having everything upended during for a long time, ending with a season when you usually long for things to be normal, that makes you better understand what parts of that normal are okay to clear away.  There's something about a long unnesting that makes the re-nesting that much more simplified.  There's something about all the micro-decisions that makes the bigger decisions more obvious in the end.  

Okay, back at it.  More pictures to follow.  

And, as we've been saying, once we're really moved in, we're looking forward to having everyone over.  Just not all at the same time :).

Hush the Noise

 

In 1849 a Unitarian Pastor named Edmund Sears wrote the poem that became the Christmas carol, 

"It Came Upon a Midnight Clear."

About the third verse in, he observed in his time....

Yet with the woes of sin and strife

The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring;
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing.

Politics and Christmas.  

Probably not anyone's best combo.

But there he was.

And here we are.

Big news from Ottawa.

Hard decisions, hot words, 

unhappy uncertainties.

Like December rain, 

dampening holiday spirits.

Ah.

Until.

We hush.

Stop talking.

Stop fighting.

Stop everything.

and 

just

listen.

Maybe then the love song can win.

If not in parliament

then here

in me.

It's a start.

Held

The lights are dim

and the air musk-heavy.

It's quiet

all but the soft shuffling of

animals settling for the night.

What if I am here,

right here,

in this stable,

with this little Family

knowing what I know now?

Knowing already this Child.

not just the Infant,

but the Risen Jesus.

And not just His story,

but Him,

because of how much we've been through 

together.

And what if, in this moment,

I can't take my eyes off that Baby.

And from behind

Someone comes up

put His hands on my shoulders,

tenderly

and asks,

"Would you like to hold the Baby?"