My First Marathon

I remember three years ago when we moved back to Michigan. I was facing another home revamp, and I was told by friends that I did not have to rush through the process like I had done in the past. I could treat it like a nice steady marathon. This advice was due to the fact that we had returned under the assumption that we would be staying put for the next several years. The advice seemed to match our plan. But, inside, I could not shake the drive to transform the new space into our version of home as quickly as possible. Perhaps, something inside me knew what lay ahead for our family and our need to have a haven from the coming storms. The night we were putting the the finishing touches on one of our last spaces was the night of our first major health crisis. The next two and half years would be a trying and exhausting time for all of us. I was so grateful for the quiet refuge that waited for us each time we returned from another hospital visit or test.

Time moved forward as it inevitably does, and the tests and visits turned into healing and recovery. This much welcome change brought another that wasn't so pleasant.  My place of shelter over the last few years began to feel like a cage that had become too small. It was becoming clear that it had served its purpose. It had kept us all safe and protected during a vulnerable season. Now, in the new season full of the change that trials bring, my home no longer seemed to fit. It was a beautiful reminder of a pain that I was longing to forget. I desperately tried to change it to match what was happening inside of me. But, it couldn't become what it was never meant to be.

It is now a refuge for a new family, and from what I hear, they love everything about it. Life has taken us 2000 miles away. I have another home that is now awaiting its renewal. Each day as I go through the process of beginning again, I can't stop hearing the words mentioned to me three years ago, "It's not a marathon". This time I feel compelled to heed this very simple advice. The only thing that I feel driven to do is live each day. I am grateful to wake up and breath in and out in a place that is as quirky and scarred as its new owner. Maybe, I have finally reached that elusive place called home.

An Unfinished Room in an
Unfinished Life