One of the really tragic things about leaving a house is that it's such a permanent good bye. I'm one of those people who, years after moving out, finds myself wanting to visit my old houses just to see how they're doing. But I never actually have the guts to knock on the door and ask perfect strangers for an unscheduled tour of their home. So I drive by occasionally instead. And I wonder.We're currently waiting for the bank to tell us when we have to move out of our house so that the new owners can move in. And I'm still not sure where we're going to go. There's a house for rent around the corner. And it's okay. The kids would be able to stay in the same schools. I just keep reminding myself that there are much worse things. Having a kid who can't talk, for example. Something like that leaves losing a house in the same category as small beans. But still, we've put a lot of work into this house. So I have felt rather sad about it at times.
Things always come to me just when I need them to. Lately, I've been reading about the arts of gratitude, seeing, and blessing. Don't throw up, it's not as cheezy as it sounds. Well, actually it is. But I guess I don't care. Gratitude is about, well... feeling grateful. And feeling it as intensely as possible as often as possible. Seeing has to do with seeing the truth, not necessarily the truth one wants to see, the one that's been manufactured by, lessened by, or added to by the ego, but the real truth in a situation. And blessing has to do with recognizing and rejoicing in the interconnectedness of everything, and behaving accordingly.
I do a lot of reading about these kinds of things. But, while I love to read about it, I don't so much love trying to practice it. Practicing it takes quite a bit more effort I've discovered. But practicing these things on a daily basis apparently opens up portals - ones that link one's heart straight to God, or, if you prefer, to the highest energy frequencies of the universe. Still sound a bit too fluffy? Okay. Let me put it this way. It claims to be the magic formula for how to get what you want. Now that I can hear:)
Last Friday, the people who are buying our house had their realtor call me and ask if they could come over and take some measurements of the windows. And this irritated the hell out of me. I immediately thought, "You know?! If we could pay the price that they're paying for MY house, then we could afford to keep it! But that's not enough, they have to inconvenience me too?!"
This one little thought set forth a train of negative thinking that lasted the entire morning. "They're probably typical tract house people. They'll probably try to make everything look brand new. They'll probably rip out my painted kitchen cupboards and put in those cheap looking, maple ones from Lowes. They probably won't appreciate my appliances at all. And they'll probably paint my walls, the ones I've spent hours and hours painting soft, warm colors, white. White, white, white. White walls and tan carpeting. Oh God! That's surely what's going to be in any rental we move into!"
It kept going.
"And clutter. They'll probably fill my house with fat, over sized furniture and millions of tiny nick knacks. Tiny porcelain puppy dogs. Creepy little children figurines with big heads and unnatural eyes. Fake flowers. Oh God. And they probably have a T.V. the size of my bed. They probably don't own one book! Oh, this poor house. This has got to be a mistake. Is this is a mistake?! Maybe there's a way to hang on to the house that we just haven't thought of yet."
At about this point, I recognized that my thoughts were not only completely out of control, but that they were also really affecting my emotions. I felt really shitty. And my body had become stiff as well. I realized that if these people came over and found me in this state of mind, their time here would consist of uncomfortably taking the measurements with an unfriendly, cold and aloof person in the next room. We wouldn't be able to break the tension with a jack hammer. And how would I feel if I was buying a home, something that can be one of the most joyous occasions in life, and it was starting out cold and tense? It would make me very sad. That's when I decided to try out my new, rather fluffy information.
I sat down in a chair and started a meditation. I started with trying to bring about a feeling of gratitude for these people. It didn't work. So, I decided to start with something simple instead. Coffee. I mean, how can one not feel an immediate and overwhelming sense of gratitude for the existence of coffee? Then I slowly began to transfer this feeling to other things. Cheesecake. The fact that we always seem to have food. Really good food. Paris. Art. The people who make art. People in general. My husband. My kids. Friends. Strangers. And, finally, the people buying our house.
The gratitude made the seeing (the finding the truth) much easier than it would have otherwise been. These people haven't done anything wrong. Their buying our house isn't a personal affront to me. In fact, they're doing us a favor by buying our house. It's because of them that we don't have to actually foreclose. And all they're thinking about is the excitement of buying a new house. What can I do to try and make it a positive experience for them? Well, I can try to bless the occasion (and I actually didn't vomit upon thinking this). I can be happy and friendly when they come.
I felt so good that I was practically buzzing right off the chair when the doorbell rang. It was a woman, her husband, the woman's mother, and their realtor. The woman immediately pushed her way through everybody and over to me, got within about six inches of my face, and the first words out of her mouth to me were, "I LOOOVVE your house. I love everything about it. I love your colors. I love your stuff. I love your taste. I love everything."
"Thank you!" I said, absolutely delighted.
Then she got within about four inches of my face and asked quietly but forcefully, "Can I have your curtains?"
I put my face even closer to hers and said, "Umm… NO."
"Damn it!" she responded, smiling big. "Well, he hasn't seen the house yet," she said, pointing at her husband, who was still in the process of rolling his eyes about the curtain question, "I put in the offer without him."
"Oh God," I said, smiling at him, "Well you better go and have a look then."
Shane was working from home that day, so he came downstairs and met them as well. And the four of us hit it off unbelievably well. Have you ever met people that you not only like, but that you immediately know that you could be friends with? That' what happened. We spent over an hour talking and laughing and getting to know each other.
We talked about every detail of the house. I spent some time showing the husband how the appliances work, which he loved because he cooks for real. Then we went out into the back yard and showed them the trees we’ve planted and the garden, which currently has so many ripe watermelons that I don’t know what to do with them all. They loved it.
When we got back inside, she said to me, “You know? I absolutely love these kitchen cupboards. Is there touch up paint for them?” she asked.
“In the garage and labeled,” I answered.
“And the colors on the walls are so beautiful. I won’t have to touch a thing,” she said.
I could’ve kissed her.
When we got into the office, she said, “I told him (pointing to her husband again) that none of our T.V.s will fit into that little slot in the family room. I told him that a woman with this many books probably has a tiny T.V., and sure enough you do. Do you want to sell any of these bookshelves?”
“If I did that, were would I put the books?” I answered.
“Good point. He works in the entertainment business, so we have a lot of really huge T.V.s,” she said.
Oh well. Nobody’s completely perfect.
“But I have a lot of books as well,” she continued.
At this point, I noticed that her mother had been staring at Cale for a long time. Every time I had looked at her she had been staring at Cale. Cale has reached the age where he no longer looks like a toddler. He looks like a kid. But he doesn’t talk and he doesn’t act like most kids. He still kind of acts like a baby. And I have immediate affection for anyone who notices and becomes concerned. I could tell that she didn’t how to bring it up.
“He has Autism. And he doesn’t talk,” I told her, “But he goes potty in the toilet now!”
Cale was dancing around in front of the bathroom door. “Excuse me,” I said, and took Cale to the bathroom.
Then we all went upstairs and visited up there for a long time, slowly going through each bedroom while they made decisions about where to put their furniture. Then we went out onto the balcony off of our bedroom, and once the men had gone back inside again, the wife asked quietly, “Are you disappointed that you have to move?”
“Yes, but only because we’ve done so much to the house. If we can move to Montana, which is where all of our family is at, then I won’t be disappointed. But if we end up in a rental around the corner, then I’m afraid I will be a little. But I’m so happy that you guys like everything so well. That helps a lot,” I answered.
We had a good heart to heart talk about a few things. Then, once she had gone back inside leaving me with her mother, her mother got up close to me and said, “No words at all, huh? Is he getting any help?”
Bless her sweet heart. All she was thinking about was my son. I explained how Cale can imitate a few words now, but that it’s like the wire in his brain regarding initiating communication seems to be disconnected entirely. So he doesn’t say anything unless you prompt him. Then he will only sometimes repeat the word that you say. I also told her about all the help he’s getting. “His therapists and I have pretty much given up on any kind of functional verbal communication. Now we’re moving toward teaching him how to communicate using a picture system, which can later be transferred to using a computerized communication device,” I explained.
And I realized, as I was explaining all of this to her, how deeply concerned and pained she was by this information. She almost looked as though she might start crying. And, at the exact same time, I realized how deeply concerned and pained that I was not. I mean, I knew that I had working on acceptance for a long time. I’ve wanted, for a very long time, more than anything else in the entire world, to be able to accept my son for who and how he is, for whatever that means. And it was a silent, unexpected gift to discover that this had finally actually happened. I was really okay with him not learning to talk. I explained all of this with a smile on my face, and actually even gave her sympathy for her pain about it.
“Wow,” I thought, “Gratitude, seeing, and blessing things, really does bring you what you want. If I had been cold and aloof, none of the nature of this visit would’ve happened. And I wouldn’t have realized that my dream, my real dream, had finally come true.”
We all talked for a long time sitting in our living room. I found out that the mother is an art teacher. That’s what I was. And her daughter, the woman buying the house, has a master’s degree in education too. We all had a lot of things in common actually. They bought some furniture from me, which is great because I can just leave it in the house when we move. And we exchanged phone numbers, all while their realtor plugged his ears and hummed so as to ignore all of the official real-estate rules that we were breaking during our interactions.
You know what’s funny? They never did take measurements of the windows. It was all just a ploy to get into the house and meet us (although it might’ve initially been a ploy to get a hold of my curtains:). And as we were saying good-bye, the woman buying the house looked at me and said, “You’ll have to come over. Come anytime you want to see the house again, even if it’s years down the road. We’d love to see you. You might be kind of surprised by how it looks though. I collect a lot of nick knacks. I have a collection of crosses that will cover that entire wall right there.”
Crosses. Good Lord. I’d have never even thought of that. Oh well. Like I said before, nobody’s completely perfect:)
