I can't find my underwear...

It has been two weeks now since the never ending move took place.  Much has happened in this short span of time and I’m not quite sure where to begin, so I’ll begin with…”I can’t find my underwear!”

“Two Men and a Truck” came to move me on Thursday February 20^th, only it was really five men and two very large trucks and an entourage of wonderful friends who took so much time out of that week to help me pack up my fragile things and move them piece by piece.  I’ll get back to that in a sec.

Tom Brown, Dennis Knocke, Jared moving my incredibly heavy chandelier

By Saturday, two days later, my house continued to be in chaos.  I was like a pig out of blanket, my world was topsy turvy and everything was catty wampus.  I had worked hard to rid myself of the enormous boxes for two full days and still, everything was helter skelter.  I was helping host an engagement party that Saturday night and worked all day on the house until about an hour before I needed to be at the party.

I jumped in the shower, did the whole find your make-up, hunt for your hair products, and then I turned to decide what to wear to this event.  I found an outfit, then turned to a bag, thinking my underwear would be there and whoa...full of socks and work-out gear.  Another bag, then another, clothes were strewn all over the floor and I literally could find no underwear...I mean not a stitch.  I absolutely could not attend this party without underwear!  Finally, I spotted a white trash bag in my bathtub, at last underwear!  It just goes to show ya, life without being able to find one’s underwear is a life out of control.

So, let’s go back to that day when all my buddies rallied and hand toted framed pieces, fragile treasures and lamps from my old house to the new one.  Many trips were made that Wednesday before the movers came on Thursday and oh how I appreciated the extra hands, the laughter and our friendships.  I had a back room that I had designated for all the breakables and soon it was filled to overflowing.  I heard some whispering and soft chit chat between Claudia and Carolyn.  I thought they were reorganizing the room for more clutter, but oh no, out they came stating boldly that I was the owner and possessor of 42, yes 42 lamps...What?!?

I knew I liked lamps.  I love walking by homes at night and seeing the soft glow coming from windows.  It’s so much more inviting than bright, harsh over head lighting...but 42, okay, I have a lamp fetish. I have winnowed it down to about 30, but keep in mind I have moved into a home ½ the size of our Bretford Ct. home.  The lamp fetish continues.

On that very same Wednesday, the Dovie Lea was pronounced dead, like done, toast, goner.  While we were moving my 42 lamps, I had another friend call to ask if she could use the truck to pick up some hay for a project.  “Sure, it’s parked in front of Bretford Ct. The keys are in it.  Take it use it, enjoy her...you will have fun driving her.

About 30 minutes later I get a call from Susan.  “Jannnnnnet, (knew something was wrong) I’m at the end of your block and I can get your 1970 Chevy C10 Sidestep (okay she just said truck) to go into gear.  It seems to be frozen, I’m so sorry.”

No problem I rushed back to the old house, lifted her hood and was going to flip some lever that Tommy, the previous truck owner, had told me I might need to do.  About the same time Hector, my yard man drove up, reconnected a hose and said I needed to take her to a mechanic for some fine tuning.  

Now, I was going to take her in anyway because I was having more and more difficulty shutting the doors.  Like it was to the point that the driver door was impossible to close. I was crawling over Lucy Belle (who now lived in Dovie Lea) to get to the steering wheel.  It was an old truck, I expected some minor problems here and there.

That afternoon, I got a call from the owner of Belden’s Automotive.  Rusty, a friend of Brooke’s.  He had taken care of me since the day I decided to buy the truck.  He had called Tommy pre-purchase and asked all the right questions, lined up a mechanic in Austin to look at the truck when I picked it up, he had really looked after me.

It was Rusty's call that pronounced the Dovie Lea was dead, and I realized I was a big mouth bass with SUCKER written all over me.  I had been hooked and reeled in by Tommy, the truck man.  I bought his whole story, no the engine block wasn’t cracked, the transmission was great...sorry, he didn’t have time for the mechanic to take 3 hours to check her out because of work and church.  Trustingly, I loved that adorable truck, I wanted it and  paid cash and she was mine.  

Well, for 17 days she was mine.  I even felt guilty about scraping the cowboy Jesus sticker off the back of the truck.  Looking back, that sticker was stuck on that window about like Harper puts one of her princess stickers on her shirt.  Boy was I reeled in. What fun the truck was.  Lucy hanging out the window, people driving past, honking shouting, “Great truck!”  I was happy as a dead pig in sunshine!

Little did I know that the engine block was cracked all the way down, the transmission was leaking like a spigot and the whole underside was rusted out.  Unsafe to drive, I said good-bye to the Dovie and my puffed up pride was quickly deflated.  Rusty ended up trying to talk Tommy into doing the right thing.  Brent called and left many messages telling Tommy who knows what.  But Tommy didn’t man up and in the end Rusty sold my terrific lousy truck for less than ½ what I paid less than 17 days before.  Lesson learned, I’m turning into a wise widow.

What about leaving the Bretford Ct. house? It was tough, I had moments when I would break down and sob as the house emptied and I felt so hollow.  The day after moving, Brooke went with me to say a last goodbye to our beautiful home.  

Walking in, I was flooded with the memory of Steve and I walking into our finally completed home and the simple loveliness of it.  It was empty that day too, but that day about 12 years to the date of my moving out, we were excited about what we had created and filled with anticipation of filling it with us, our things, our family, our memories.

Right after we moved into Bretford Ct. 

Our now empty home

Through tears I walked the rooms, smiling at all the memories Steve and I had made with our children, our friends, holidays, family.  I finally got to our bedroom.  Brooke, knowing how difficult it was for me, because it was equally painful for her, never left my side.  I knelt down in the spot where Steve’s hospital bed had been placed.  I curled up there in that empty spot and said good-bye one more time, agh it was gut wrenching.  I took my time, got up walked out, shutting the front door and as promised rubbed the warm wood against my hand and came home.  My new home.

It has taken me over 2 weeks to get everything (but the garage, a huge task to conquer) in place.  Pictures on the walls, treasures all have homes, kitchen in place and I know exactly where my underwear is.  

And guess what, I love my new home!  It’s absolutely perfect for me. Memories of Steve are everywhere, our trips, our purchases, hanging things on the wall that he complained about me buying...it’s all in place and I am home.  

I firmly believe God made this whole transition as smooth and as easy as possible and I thank him for the blanket of care he has placed upon this family of mine.

I’m good.

All my love,

Janet

Luke 15:8-10   “Or imagine a woman who has ten coins and loses one. Won’t she light a lamp and scour the house, looking in every nook and cranny until she finds it? And when she finds it you can be sure she’ll call her friends and neighbors: ‘Celebrate with me! I found my lost coin!’ Count on it—that’s the kind of party God’s angels throw every time one lost soul turns to God.”