Moving from my Willowbrook house was a bittersweet thing, even though I knew it was the right thing. From the day the real estate agent met us in the driveway for the first viewing in summer of 2013, I had envisioned retiring there, my grown children coming home to visit after they had children of their own. I loved that house more than I had ever loved any material thing in my life. I loved the yard. The view out the windows. The deer and wild turkey that would cross the yard moving in and out of the surrounding woods. I loved the colors of the trees in Fall, the beauty of the hill covered in snow in Winter, the colors in Spring as things came back to life after a season of dormancy. I loved the dogwood trees and azaleas. The day lilies I had transplanted near the pool from my grandmother’s yard. I loved the sunbathing shallow end of the pool where I could lounge while watching the kids play. I was going to miss the outdoor space most. No matter the season of the year, that yard made my heart happy.
But seasons of life are a different thing. They aren’t marked on a calendar or with changes in foliage or temperature. Sometimes there is no clear end or beginning. You just evolve with the circumstances around you until one day you notice that you’re different somehow from the person you used to be. Perhaps you realize that your pain had so fully enveloped your soul that it blinded you for a time to all the things you used to love – things that made you, you.
What a beautiful thing when I felt my soul coming back to life the day I noticed, for the first time in a year or so, just how much my day lilies and crepe myrtles needed attention. When the haze lifted from the eyes of my soul enough for me to see something other than the fog I had been in, and God started to show me the truth of Ecclesiastes 3: “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot…”
It was time to let go, time to move on, time to trust the Lord’s provision.
I contacted my friend to see if the house she had offered months prior was still available and if they were still willing to rent to us. I prepared the children. I scheduled repairs and spent every spare minute cleaning and clearing out. I met with the bank, a real estate agent, and a financial advisor. I prayed a lot. For the kids’ hearts, my heart, the transition; the people who would buy my house; and my friends who would be clearing their family home to make way for my family. I went to see the house that would be our next home and listened as this precious lady who would become “Granny” to us described years of life and love within the walls of the house her husband built for them. A charming three bedroom house with a finished basement, lots of storage closets, and two porches with arched openings that overlooked flower beds that held rose bushes and other plants, situated at the front of their family’s property. A family who would become like family to us.
The yard was flat with a circular driveway that went behind the house and was lined along the back with crepe myrtles. On either side of the house were various trees and bushes, and toward one side and the back of the house was a hill that led down to a field where deer often congregated. Across the field, there was a small stream just before the entrance to the woods, through which we would later be allowed use of a neighbor’s fishing pond. The woods stretched behind the family property and up the mountain side that was covered in the colors of Fall.
My heart was overwhelmed. God had not only provided adequate space and storage for us, but He gave so much of what my soul loved – the beauty of creation, the woods, deer and wildlife, established flower beds, big porches. And although the kids had been sad about leaving the home they knew, they were excited and making plans for riding bikes around the house, playing football in the field, tromping through the woods. Seeing themselves in this new space helped them process the changes that were about to come, and I saw God prepare their hearts, just as I had hoped and prayed He would, to accept another phase in their young lives.
I was worried about Granny and how it must feel for her entering a new phase of life without her beloved Johnny. I imagined she felt some of the same bittersweetness I felt, letting go of what was and looking forward to what remained unseen, but she assured me that she had tremendous, God-given peace in sharing her house with us. So after meeting with her and seeing the home He ordained before I had even listed our house to sell, and trusting that He would provide a buyer, I posted ours “For Sale by Owner” on Zillow on Sunday, September 8.
On Tuesday, September 10, an agent called me. She represented the very same couple from whom we had bought the house in 2013, when they had to relocate to another state with the husband’s job. He was planning to retire, and they were looking to move back to this area. She had shown them a large number of houses, but they kept comparing them all to the Willowbrook house. When she saw the Willowbrook house posted on Zillow, she knew what I was seeing more and more – God was at work and truly cares about the heart’s desires of His children (Psalm 37:4).
The couple came to see the house on Wednesday, and we were under contract on Thursday. It was a bittersweet whirlwind over the next month, as I went through fifteen years worth of belongings and donated to various charity groups, gave things away to friends and family, and boxed up what remained of the married years of my life. People offered to help, but there was so much I had to do on my own before I could tell others what to do. Only I could decide what to keep and what to let go.
I let go of much. PhysicalIy and figuratively. I had to use our furniture and belongings in the new house because I couldn’t afford new ones, but beyond sermon notes and a few small things that I wanted my children to have of their daddy’s one day, I kept very little to remind me of what was gone. What had been stolen from me. While memories and mementos might comfort in some forms of grief, they were cruel reminders or a source of confusion in this one. I looked forward to a new start and making new memories that might not erase the old ones but might push them to a farther away place in my mind.
I knew I couldn’t start new without closure in the old, so after closing on the house on Friday and moving all our things to the new house over the weekend and on Monday, I went back one final time to the Willowbrook house on Tuesday. I wanted to make sure things were clean for the new owners, and I needed to say goodbye. I prayed through every single room and outdoor space of that house and property, recalling and thanking God for the good…asking Him to heal me of the bad. I bathed that house in tears and prayer for hours, working my way through slowly, taking the time my soul needed. Then I locked the doors one last time and drove away, and I have not missed it even one time since.