I still remember the first night we ever spent in this place. After seminary graduation we had moved 5 times. Our stuff had moved 7.
In a year.
We were so excited to finally be in our permanent home that when folks kindly offered to let us stay with them until our stuff arrived a couple of days later, we said, "No thank you." We slept on an air mattress in the bedroom, ran out and bought a couple of lamps and quickly learned that brick blocks cell phone signals.
tdx started school the day after we moved so I was in a dark farm house with no tv and no way to communicate with anyone.
Still. It felt good.
As hopefully everyone has with their home there are some really good memories here -
I parked my pick-up truck in this lot.
The dog showed up about a year after we did.
We brought our son home here.
We have hosted bbq's, pizza nights, movie nights, wine & whines and family.
The yard and lot are a perfect place for a boy and dog to play.
There are also some brutally hard memories here.
The manse life wasn't our first choice, but it was an ok choice for us. It allowed us to save some money. It was fairly well taken care of, so our health/lives were never in danger. Not all of my clergy colleagues have been so lucky.
But it will be nice to not have folks come to my door asking for money based on my location to the church (I always told them my husband, the pastor, wasn't home right now).
It will be nice to not have banjos and bluegrass on my lawn until 10 on a Saturday night.
It will be nice to live in semi-anonymity where far less of a percentage of people know who I am.
It will be nice not to round every corner and have a memory flick me in the ear.
I know there are large challenges to home ownership. There is no one to call - and to finance - repairs, but at just under 40 it's time.
It is time to go. I no longer belong here. Even the paint that I chose and the wall paper border in the nursery look foreign. This house is no longer where I am supposed to be. And although wherever The Boy is, that is home - this place no longer is. I am ready.
I am ready to leave this shelter and head home.