The story of a house

On Friday afternoon, Matt and I rode together to the title company to sign our closing papers. Matt asked a ton of questions, and I listened as intently as possible to the blah-blah-blah that is home financing. Numbers and legal jargon are brain-exploding matters, in my opinion. But still, I tried to focus despite the welling excitement within.

After an hour and a half, checks were dispersed, congratulations doled out, house keys slid across the table, and a sweet little gift of chocolates and an upside down tomato plant given to us by our realtor. With much less pomp than I would expect for the circumstance, we walked out the door, hopped in the car, and headed to our house. Our new/old house.

Over the large Dames Point Bridge we went, each commenting on the miraculousness of it all while gobbling up half the box of chocolates. As I looked out over the barges and ferries in the St. John's River below, with the sun shining in the clear blue sky with cotton ball clouds hanging wistfully above us, I smiled. This was just the type of house we had dreamed about owning one day. It felt good.

We drove into the neighborhood with confidence. Matt's grandmother was already out front, talking with some neighbors. You see, part of the beauty of this whole purchase is that our next door neighbor is Matt's grandmother, a.k.a. Grandma, a.k.a. MeMa (pronounced: Mee-Maw). She's full of life, a ton of fun, and loves spending time with us. She's an A+, primo type of neighbor!

Straight away Grandma introduced us to the neighbors that were gathered out in front of our house chatting away as the afternoon breeze from the river two blocks away began to stir. We met Bob and LaKeisha. We also met Micah and her husband who invited us into their home to see what they had done with their wood floors. We also met Libby, a sweet 86-year-old woman with whom I immediately shared that I admired her landscaping. She was humble about it, saying something like, "Oh, that's nothing" or "Oh, that old yard?" I can't remember exactly. Matt told Libby that he remembers one time as a kid, he, his siblings and cousins once held hands and wrapped their arms around the big oak tree in Libby's yard to see how many kids it would take to get all the way around it. Libby smiled, and I thought our first visit to the neighborhood as official homeowners could not have been more perfect. Neighborly chatter, warm introductions, and Spanish moss dangling overhead from Libby's large oak tree.

This home has a lot of significance to us. Matt's grandmother has lived here since the time he was a baby, and he's been coming to this neighborhood to visit her his whole life. He remembers Mr. Church, the man who once lived in the house we now own. I love the story Matt tells about how Mr. Church owned a large toy train collection and would invite Matt over to the garage to look at the trains he had set up. It always reminds me of this scene from the movie A Mighty Wind. Eugene Levy kills me.

On Saturday we woke early and headed over to the house to begin cleaning. As we drove up to the house, Karis kept saying "MeMa's house." We tried to explain that this was our new house, but I think for a while she will assume we live painfully close to MeMa without the benefit of being able to be in her house every-waking-minute-of-the-day. Either way, I think living by MeMa will never get old.

After cleaning and mowing the lawn, Matt brought in the beach chairs from the trunk of our car, and we sat down in our living room and brainstormed about all the things we want to accomplish in the next month before we officially move in. We talked, and the list grew. We talked some more, and the list grew even more. I think we officially have two lists now: a to-do list and a maybe-we'll-get-to-this-one-day "wish" list. I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

So, as quickly as we celebrate our good blessings, we also find ourselves overwhelmed and, at least on my part, worried about getting it all done. I've begun reminding myself the truth I always run to: Life is most often about process not the finished result. Understanding that is tricky. Believing it is key.

This is going to be a journey. A fun, hard, humorous, dirty, redemptive journey. Keep reading...I hope to bring you guys along with me.