Close Call & Answered Prayers

It’s funny how you sometimes you don’t notice in your day to day life what something is really looking like.  You may look at it every day, but you see almost without seeing.  I think this isn’t all bad—how could we survive live every day if we were always aware of how imperfect everything around us was?  On the other hand, it does make for a lot of intense work once the goal is to sell the house rather than to live in it.

A couple of years ago Russ built some shelves in the corner of the school room (aka dining room) to hold all of the school books.  We have loved these shelves and used them every day.  Not only have we used them to hold books, paper, wallets, and other personal paraphernalia, I can now tell you that some parts have been favored with lovely stickers and other parts wear the remnants of spilled glitter.

All of which is fine when we’re living, but not fine when we’re selling.  Especially as this must now function in a dining room setting rather than a school room.

I have been dreading tackling these shelves, and I have put it off repeatedly.  Earlier this week when I had the caulk gun out for something else I finally decided it was time to caulk the shelves.  Places that had been caulked were in need of repair, and many places hadn’t been caulked the first time around.  Since I am now the queen of the caulk gun (that’s in addition to my title as queen of google) I got to work and fixed it all up.  It took a LONG time.

 

Friday afternoon we got a call that our house was supposed to show today between 1:45 and 2:45.  The kids and I did some cleaning Friday evening, but since I had to take them to a girl scout activity at 6:30 Saturday morning I decided that rather than work late into the night I would go to bed (relatively) early, get up and take them, and then start working on the house as soon as I got back.

My plan went like clockwork.  Right until I got back from taking the girls and climbed into bed and slept until 9AM.  (What can I say, except that the allergy medicine is killing me.  Because otherwise you know I’d be up at the crack of dawn…)

I got up at 9, made breakfast, then surveyed the house.  I had told the boys that there would be lots of work to do, and so I started them vacuuming the stairs and mopping floors while I tackled the built in shelves again.  First I went out into the garage and quickly swiped a coat of white paint on one side of each shelf.  I knew I didn’t really have enough time to get everything done, so the whole time I was praying that Heavenly Father would help me work more quickly.

When the shelves were done I came in and straightened up the laundry room and stashed the clean laundry in my closet to be folded tomorrow during conference.  Then I came back downstairs and realized my next task was to put the stop molding in the last few windows so that the air compressor could go back out in the garage. 

As soon as that was done I brought the paint in and started painting the carcass of the built in shelves.  It took a LONG time—so much wood that had not been painted in so many years, plus having to paint around all of the hardware.  I painted, listened to conference, and prayed that I would finish enough of it in time.

About 30 minutes before conference was over I got one last chore out of each of the boys and then sent them off to a movie so that they would be out of the house.  Then I went back to work.  At that point I had entered the time frame that the realtor had given me for coming to see the house, but I figured that they weren’t likely to be there right away (and hopefully not early again!) and so I had a little longer. 

After I’d gotten the top half of everything painted I brought back in the stop shelves and reinstalled them.  I stopped and looked and decided that I could probably get away with bringing in the bottom shelves (which were freshly painted) and just painting the few places that would be visible if you walked by.  (The back of the shelving unit wouldn’t show on the bottom, for example, unless you bent down to look at it.  And most of the sides wouldn’t show either.)  I did that last bit of painting, then cleaned up all of the paint supplies and put them out in the garage.

I brought the bottom shelves in, two at a time, quickly figuring out where the pins needed to go to keep the shelves all flat and even.  I got the second to last shelf in, and then put in the first 2 pins for the last shelf.  I realized that I was 2 pins short (and the other pins were out in the garage) right as I saw a car drive into the driveway out of the corner of my eye.  Quickly I grabbed a pin off out from under one of the other shelves and stuck it on the side that was missing pins.  I figured that for a little while, it wouldn’t matter if the shelves weren’t supported on all 4 corners.

Then I grabbed my stuff and snuck out the back door and ran over to the neighbor’s house.

As I sat there waiting for them to be done looking, I realized that my day-long prayer really had been answered.  I didn’t finish the project, but I did get just enough done, plus everything cleaned up and put away, and just in the nick of time.

Whew. 

 

When I saw that the car was gone I came back and spoonful after spoonful of nutella like a crazed person.  At that point I really didn’t care how much sugar was in it, I just needed some chocolate.

Then I ate my very late lunch, got everything out and started painting again.  This particular paint isn’t going on really well so everything that had already been painted really needed a 2nd coat, and there was still the bottom half that didn’t even have a first coat.  I painted through the afternoon session of conference, took the girls to their friend’s house, persuaded Josh to go to the priesthood session, put another coat of paint on the inside of the front door and then started painting the shelves yet again.  I painted while I skyped with Russ, painted while I talked on the phone with Cindy Lynn, painted while I talked for a few minutes with a friend, then started the afternoon session of conference again and listened to all of it except for that first 15 minutes that’s business.  When it finished a few minutes ago I decided that was my sign that I, too, was done for the night.  It was 10PM, after all…(there are still a few places that haven’t had a second coat, but it’s looking much better.)

I will not list out what painting there is left to do in the house because there’s still enough to make me either overwhelmed or depressed.  Instead I will focus on how grateful I am that this big project is almost done, and that the timing worked so well (if a little closely) today.

 

PS—Wouldn’t it be such a nice cozy ending to the story if I could tell you that all of that work paid off and they made an offer on the spot?  Except that then it would be a fairy tale, and not real life.  And in real life, yet again, the buyers decided that they wanted a newer house.  Actually that doesn’t make me too crazy—because it’s not like I could make the house younger if I worked harder, so I’m off the hook there.  I know that the right buyer is out there, somewhere.  I’m just praying that it’s sooner rather than later…

Anatomy of an Addiction

Actually I don’t know what the anatomy of an addiction is.  Or how I would tell you about it.  That just sounded like a very profound title.  But what I do know is that I’ve been (mostly) off of sugar for 2 weeks.  And I am realizing that this is just NOT a good time in my life to give up sugar, people.  Seriously—if there every was a time that almost necessitated cookies and ice cream and daily doses of dove chocolates, well this is it.

But no.

I’m off of sugar.

 

Which is why I was doing this at 11 last night.

 

PS—I know I said I wasn’t going to do it, Amy. But then I got to Kroger and they had some decent apples for 99 cents a pound.  And even though my dehydrator was already in storage, Jenn was right next door with hers, and she even sent it over with one of her kids!  I mean really…it was obviously meant to be…

Too much help???

I’ve been switching over to gmail for my email for the last few months.  I’ve noticed something new recently.  Now, when I am writing an email, gmail often gives me advice. 

Like this:

 

I had written an email the other day and accidentally chose the wrong Nancy to send it too.  This is what popped up.

 

Well yes, I did.  But how did you know that?!?

 

I’m not sure if I appreciate this….

or if I’m just a little creeped out by it…..

Writing

I tell him goodbye and we end our nightly skype conversation.   I say that I’m going to get ready for bed, and maybe write for a few minutes.  Sometimes I don’t have the energy, physical or mental, to actually do it.  But regardless, I always feel awkward, pretentious even, when I say it.

I could call it journaling, I guess.  In many ways that would be a more accurate descriptor, except that when I finish I plan to publish whatever I’ve written to my blog, a place where theoretically anyone in the world can read what I’ve written, though in reality it is my family members and a few close friends who do.  So journaling doesn’t seem quite the right word either.

I am surprised every time by how cathartic the writing experience is.  Surprised that when writing, like teaching or bearing testimony, the spirit is able to teach me new things.  Surprised that the process of identifying and expressing what I’m feeling and thinking in that moment so precisely is often exactly what I need to move past it.

In Sunday School this week the lesson was the first few chapters of Jacob.

And if there were preaching which was sacred, or revelation which was great, or prophesying, that I should engraven the heads of them upon these plates, and touch upon them as much as it were possible, for Christ’s sake and for the sake of the people.  Jacob 1:4

The comment was made that Jacob must have felt such a responsibility about what he wrote, knowing that it would be for the benefit of not only his family and their descendants, but also for us in our day.

 

I thought about that comment the rest of the day.  In a small way (tiny, miniscule, infinitesimal) I realized that I feel a similar responsibility.  Sure, I write this blog so that I will be able to remember what fun things we’ve done and my children will too.  But I also write for a much more serious reason.  I write because I want them to know about my dealings with the Lord—that I had them.  I want them to know that I had plenty of experiences that were really hard, and that sometimes I was angry with God.  And then I want them to know that I worked to get through these feelings, that I worked to first develop and then nourish the faith to be able to believe that God’s plan is the best plan for all of us.  I may never walk across the plains, (here’s hoping) but I hope that my children, grandchildren, and whoever comes after will know that I believed, and that it will strengthen them as well.

Isn’t this BEYOND Ironic??? (for me, anyway)

Smooth Sea

Spin

Sometimes I’m doing ok…but that’s probably because I’m asleep, or because I’m too busy (probably using my awesome nail gun) to think much.  A lot of the time I feel like I am on the verge of tears.  Thinking about the reality, the fact that four weeks from tomorrow the moving van will load up—that’s rough.  The calendar is filling up with all of the things that we need & want to squeeze in before we leave.  And every time I think about leaving, about really and truly leaving, well then I do cry.

Quite often I realize that I’m still…well not quite mad at God—but almost.  I have been frustrated with my lack of ability to move past this feeling like He has caused this all, that His plan is the source of my unhappiness.  The thing is, I do feel like He caused it, and that it certainly is His plan.  But I want to feel that way with gratitude, with awe that He has a hand in our lives, that He is directing our paths this carefully.  Not with anger.

Tonight while I was driving to my last presidency meeting (more tears) I had a thought.  And that thought was that I was feeling entitled.

Entitled to live in the place I love.
Entitled to live in the home I love.
Entitled to live with the people I love.
Entitled to live near the ocean I love.
Entitled to have what I want, where I want it, essentially.

I realized as I was thinking about it how wrong all of those thoughts are.  God gave us this house.  He gave us the job that Russ had up until October.  I say “God gave us xyz” about many things in a generic sense, but that is not what I mean in these instances.  I mean He literally and specifically provided these things for us, in a way that was unmistakable—divine signatures.  As far as that goes, He must have brought us to Durham in the first place.  What are the odds that a head hunter from North Carolina would call a kid in Idaho to see if he wanted a job?  How many hundreds of people in the United States could have fit the requirements for that job, and yet the head hunter called Russ.  His boss never interviewed anyone else for the job—just Russ.  So yes, North Carolina too has been a gift from God.

And when I reframe it that way, I am again brought to tears.  But this time tears of gratitude.  And humility, that the Lord is so good to me when I am so stupid and stubborn.  But mostly gratitude, that we have been blessed by living here more than I can possibly express. 

When I had this realization earlier, the scripture came to mind:

…I would that ye should remember, and always retain in remembrance, the greatness of God, and your own nothingness, and his goodness and long-suffering towards you, unworthy creatures, and humble yourselves even in the depths of humility, calling on the name of the Lord daily, and standing steadfastly in the faith of that which is to come… Mosiah 4:11

 

I think I will have to remain watchful.  It’s way too easy to spin to the dark side on this—the side where I feel entitled to live my life the way I want to.  The side where I feel irritated with God for messing up my comfortable life. 

I hope I can remember this moment, and this understanding.  That instead I can spin this my interpretation of this situation towards truths; the truths that God has given us everything that we have, that He loves us more than we understand, that His plan is what we truly want, and that we would be lost without Him. 

Hear Me Roar

I’m a girl who likes a good project.  I’m more than happy to paint, garden, even run the table saw from time to time.  But this being here without Russ is putting me in the situation where I have to step up and handle things that I normally would have passed off to him.  I’ve paid a handyman to take care of  some things—things that are truly outside of my skill-set or require a long ladder on a high roof.  Others I’ve done on my own and I’m proud of it. 

Item #1—the dvd cabinet.

Our dvd cabinet isn’t fine furniture, but it is functional and we already own it.  (It will also need to be painted now that someone put a sticker on the front of it…but that’s a different conversation.)  As we were moving things around in the early packing stage we realized that the screws on one side of the bottom support had ripped out.  Russ helped me turn it upside down but he just never got around to fixing it before he left.  I’d like you to know that I glued it up and attached the new braces (the silver ones), and all without going outside to get the drill.  (I’m trying to make that sound more like noble and less like lazy!)

Item #2—the toilet.

Russ hadn’t been airborne for longer than 20 seconds when the toilet started making a dripping noise.  Drip, drip, drip.  Morning, noon, and night.  It was making me crazy, and I didn’t figure that it would make a great impression on a potential buyer.  My handy neighbor tried bending a piece but that only helped for a few hours, then the drip was back. So I fixed it.  Myself!  I replaced the guts of the toilet.  I’m still kind of impressed.  This was more than a step above brackets and screws.  And not a drip since.  (This is the new toilet guts.)

#3—window molding.

Our house had shutters when we moved in.  Every window in the front of the house and all of the kitchen windows too.  For the most part we took them down fairly soon—they were all very off-white and I wanted to paint the trim white, and I knew (accurately) that they wouldn’t survive our house full of kids.  Here’s a picture of Alisyn & Rachel with  shutters in the background.

We had taken the shutters out a long time ago, but there were still some pieces of the shutter assembly left in the windows.  I made sure that Russ took them all out before he left because I knew I was going to be painting the windows.

One day the handyman pulled me aside.  Did I know, he asked, that my windows were all missing the stop molding?

Since I had no clue what stop molding was, it was easy for me to express complete and total ignorance.

It turns out that on the inside of a house, windows are held in place by what is called stop molding.  Except that some of our windows didn’t have any stop molding—the exact windows that had had the shutters.  I realized that the shutters had served 2 functions—they covered the windows, but they were also holding the windows in place in the frames.  Sure enough, I could see that it would have been pretty easy to pull the windows right out of place.  When I was painting the windows I had been surprised at how raw and unfinished this part of the window was.  I didn’t have time to sand it down nicely, so I just painted it white.  But now I knew—there was supposed to be some molding there.

I asked the handyman about fixing it.  Because I am already sensitive to the fact that we have old windows, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they would look better with this molding on them.  He told me he could do the front 4 windows for $100.

Well.

Well.

Well.

Over the next few days I thought about it and thought about it.  I figured that if I could make a picture frame, I could surely cut some molding to fit into these window frames.  I tracked down the right kind of molding –thankfully the guy at Home Depot sent me over to the local lumber yard, an amazing place.  And I bought enough stop molding to fix ALL 14 of the molding-less windows for less than $100.

They’re not all done yet.  It took me a while to figure out exactly which way to cut the miters.  But I have the windows in the front of the house done, and I’m working on the rest.  Me and my chop saw and my air compressor and my brad gun.  (Sorry, Russ, they can be yours when you and they share a residence again.  Until then, I’ve got custody.)  Lots more fun than mopping the floor.

#4—toe kick molding

While I was at the lumber yard getting my stop molding, I was waiting and looking at their molding display.  I saw the little quarter round stuff and right next to it something called “toe molding” and it brought another thought to the forefront of my mind.  A couple of years ago when we had carpet installed we had new vinyl put in the laundry room.  I’d noticed the day I was cleaning it out before it was painted just how bad the vinyl looked around the edges—it had nothing holding it down but glue, I guess, and around the edges it had all curled up.

Sure, it wasn’t something that would probably catch someone’s first glance.  But if it caught their 2nd, it would look pretty bad.  So I decided right then and there that it couldn’t be too hard to put in some toe molding to hold those vinyl edges down, and I ordered 4 8’ pieces.  (A total guess which turned out to be remarkably close, with only a few feet left over.)

If anyone had been watching me cut the molding in the garage they would have laughed.  I had a little diagram of the room with measurements on it, and as I prepared to cut each piece I would hold my arm in the direction the cut needed to go, then move the chop saw blade to that angle.  It was very effective—I think that out of all the cuts (and it’s a room with a lot of corners) I only miscut one.  I ended up needing to shorten most of the pieces about 3/8”, so I still have some things about molding to figure out, but I consider it a great success.

Here is how it looked after I nailed the molding in,

And then after the caulking.  Doesn’t it look great!

Here’s a before & after:

#5—filters

Tonight I changed the water filters under the house.  In the crawlspace.  Me.  They were all wet and very gross, and there are no pictures.  But I did it.

 

The truth of the matter is that I’ve done far more whimpering, whining, and flat-out sobbing than roaring in the last few weeks.  I offer a  heartfelt thanks to everyone who has listened without telling me to get over myself and pull it together.  This post will help me to remember that I had at least a few “roaring” moments too.