The Fixer Upper

The sky is overcast but still very beautiful, as I look into our backyard. Dan Folgelberg is singing to me, all is right with my world in this moment. This month, actually next week reminds me of many Anniversaries in our life. We moved into this house nine years ago- next week. The kids had one day of school left, no stress there. This house was a wreck, a total fixer upper. We didn't quite know what we were really in for. At that time... 9 years ago, (hard to imagine with the state of the economy now) we had to make a decision very quickly, three other bids were in. Literally within hours we needed to decide, we did.

An older couple lived here, had for a very long time, well over thirty years and Papa Bear wasn't budging. He followed us into every room. It was very hard to just be alone with our feelings. I always wanted to live on a cul de sac, since I was a child. I thought that was very Regal Begal. The kitchen was just like the one from The Brady Bunch... but decrepit version from the 70's. Still my heartstrings were working overtime.

I have so much more compassion as I write, for the gent who was leaving his home. It was final destination... for his bride of 50 plus years or so, a Retirement Home with their Church. They couldn't get around like they used to, up and down the stairs, maintain the pool, take care of their home anymore... and it abundantly showed. I didn't get it then, I just saw a man holding on, getting in my way. Not letting me do what I needed to do. He was saying goodbye with every step,glance, touch of the home he raised his children in.Sitting on his Porch Swing as we, an excited family were exploring his World, and what he was so desperately holding on to. My tears flow freely at how difficult our transitions in life truly are. How hard it is for us to simply say... I need a moment. He sat silently looking to the Mountains as we tried to understand the place we would possibly call home. It was difficult for both of us.

We have redone this house top to bottom, it has not been labor of love. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. I am still critical when I look at it, but I have developed empathy and compassion. More patience than I can tell you. What I understand now ... the lesson was about me, letting go. This mirrored how I felt about myself the day we stepped through the door to this house. Alone, sad, so much like the owner. The house mirrored the wreck I felt like. How was I going to like, love or be patient for something I was yet to understand?

The true peeling came, on the deepest layers, levels, in these past nine years. Much solitude
for a very outgoing person ~ that took some doing. The Brady Bunch Kitchen.... I wanted to feel safe in. I wanted Alice to come in and make it all better, whip up some delicious meal, have something witty to say. When was Mr Brady going to walk through the door with some sage advice?
Mrs Brady give her all knowing look. Funny thing, I met her when I was in Hypnotherapy School years ago. Thanked her... couldn't even speak, the child in me came out and started trembling. She was kind.

Throughout this process of tearing down and rebuilding, I found the Alice in me. The Mr and Mrs Brady. Now... it is time to learn once again how to be the kid. The irony of it all...
the joke in my family was we were the Brady's. We were three boys and three girls. I would be Cindy. Fifth child, girl. Period... that was my identity. Time to reinvent myself. I am me, Clare Spencer. No longer 5th child... just simply ME.