It is early morning, and I have returned from a walk. For the first time in weeks we slept with the windows open, and I woke to the sounds of neighborhood birds, instead of the alarm. I have decided to write before I take a shower and before I attend to morning routines. No showings are scheduled for the house today, but one never knows what the day will bring. Yesterday, for example, there were two showings.
Obviously, we have no idea what life will bring us either. I think about those who are dealing with major challenges of illness or loss of spouse through death or divorce or perhaps even indifference. I think about those whose retirement is not quite as planned. The energy isn't there or the motivation or the money. The question is what will we do with what life has delivered?
We are asked, I think, to do the best that we can. How often have we used that phrase? So often it is used in reference to our parents as we look back at the mistakes they may have made in raising us. "They did the best they could." Now with grown children, I can apply that to myself. Or can you recall your child as he learned to tie his shoe or struggled with a math problem or a new piano piece, saying, "I'm doing the best I can" in an exasperated tone?
The tricky part is knowing what "the best" is. Doing the best we can takes reflection and self-awareness. It takes being open to spiritual growth and listening to our inner voice as it urges us to live our essence. Doing our best requires being honest with ourselves and knowing when we are just getting by. It means asking for help--perhaps more often than we want to. None of this is easy when we are faced with a life we didn't anticipate and certainly didn't ask for, but that's why it is crucial to live fully right now when perhaps our very best isn't needed so much. That's why I write in my journal and take a morning walk and meditate and practice centering prayer. That's why I try to live my life in honor of the Divine. It's for today, yes, but it is also for all the days when life brings what is not expected and least wanted. The days when I am at my worst. Developing one's spiritual gifts is not an insurance policy for "when bad things happen to good people," but it is the groundwork for "doing one's best."
I am coming to realize in these later years of spiritual formation that it is my job to turn the challenges into blessings. I don't mean to minimize or deny the realities of the challenges, and I don't mean to imply that this process happens right away. Certainly not. What I mean is that we are asked to remember and re-form to all we have been created to be, and how could that be anything but a blessing.
Our house is on the market and has been all summer. We continue to have lots of showings. Lots, and I am grateful, but it is hard to hear negative comments about the house, including ones about the view from the deck. However, we know how fortunate we are not to have to sell the house. Still, we have a plan and are eager to move that plan forward, but who knows what life has in store for us.
In the meantime, I will do the best I can, and I happen to love the view from here.
Show Time
Yesterday we had a showing, our 4th since the house went on the market the end of last week. Notice I said "the" house and not "our" house--a shift and a readiness. Anyway, I noticed how uptight I get before a showing. I don't sleep well, rehearsing what I need to do to prepare the house for potential buyers, as if it weren't picture perfect already. (Click here to see the video of the house.) As I move through my showing checklist, washing the towels used that morning, emptying wastebaskets, wiping down sinks, packing up my laptop, sweeping the porch floor, vacuuming and dusting--in other words a high speed re-cleaning of the entire house, I panic about whether I will have enough time or will I still be turning on the lights, every light in every room, as the realtor and potential buyer arrive? I am a force to be reckoned with as I go through this process. Pity my husband as he sits drinking his morning coffee and reading the paper. I become a cartoon character with the words "GO TO WORK -- NOW!" in the balloon above my head.
Once the house is ready to do its own magic and I lock the door and leave, I am calm once again. I am clear. I have done what I can. I know the house looks wonderful, and what happens, happens. I relinquish control, and I am delighted someone is interested enough to imagine themselves living in this home.
What Now?
But then another issue takes precedence, an issue with immediate repercussions during showing times when I am an outcast from the house, but more importantly, an issue that pervades the in-between time of preparing to list the house and actually selling the house. What now? How do I use this time? What is this in-between time for? How can I best use this unknown amount of time? How do I continue to live fully and wholly as I wait to move forward into the next step? And even, how do I live in this house as I mentally detach from this house, but don't know how long this home will remain our home?
For the time being the hard work is done. True, there are other tasks I can continue doing in preparation for an actual move. There are many bins and drawers to sort through and many treasures, thanks to years of collecting antiques, to dispose of in order to move into a smaller space. I will continue that process, but that is not exactly what I mean.
During another time of waiting to sell a house, I read, "Don't let the time do you. You do the time." (Holly W. Whitcomb in Seven Spiritual Gifts of Waiting) This is not a time to wait for my life to begin. I am 64 years old. My life began a long time ago! No, this is a time to continue living, even if it means living lightly in this house. My spiritual director reminded me recently, "Let life happen--all of it." Not only does that mean responding to what swirls around me, but also intentionally opening to the possibilities and opportunities of this time. What's the best way I can live during this time?
Making a List and Checking it Twice
And so I did what always works for me: I made a list. I have a special designated notebook, started when we were preparing to list the house, for this purpose. A notebook with a sketch of a wheelbarrow and the word "Unload" on the cover. How appropriate is that? I created a page for each room in the house with its own To Do list. Very helpful. Recently, I added two pages. "Where to Go During Showings" and "How To Use This Time." One might not think it would be hard to decide where to go while someone is in the house and true, so far, I have used those times for errands, but in the flurry of disembarking, I don't always have a clear picture of where to land. My list helps me sort through the possibilities.
"How To Use This Time" is a broader, deeper list. An expanding list, which includes:
* Write more blog posts and read other blogs.
* Contact friends here I haven't seen for awhile.
* Start a new writing project.
* Renew study of the enneagram.
* Rework my manuscript on grief and loss.
* Continue with massive project of putting pictures in archival albums.
* Resume regular exercise routine and walk more.
Active Waiting and No Regrets
In other words this needs to be a time of "active waiting," to quote Whitcomb again. This is not a time to insure regrets. When the house is ultimately sold and packing and re-settling become the overriding activities, I do not want to regret wasting this time. I don't want to look back and see that I have not used this time well.
I don't mean to imply that I need to be 'busy" all the time. A degree of rest and rejuvenation is needed. I am thrilled to have more spaciousness to sit on the front porch or deck and read. No, I am not advocating doing for the sake of doing, doing to fill the time. Instead, I want to be intentional about the open space of this time. I want to live this time wholly and fully, calmly and clearly. Even on the days when there is a showing.
