hope

A Message in the LIght

A Message in the LIght

Last evening, I posted a picture of the home I'm restoring.  Yeah, I've posted a lot of pictures over the past months but there was something about this one that spoke so much more then the rest.  It was at night and the porch light was on.

One of the first things I did when I started the renovation of the old beauty was to disconnect the existing power from the home and swing it over to a new entrance and 200 amp main panel.  This meant that the entire home went dark.  

What used to run through the veins ran no more.  Light switches that functioned since 1909 were now useless.  Outlets that gave power, useless.  Places where you dare not put your hands, now safe.  There was a sadness to it, but it had to be done. 

Months have passed, sweat and blood poured into the walls.  Many forks in the road passed. Some decisions seemed logical and some took time to fall into place.  We sat on the porch daily and talked about tomorrow, the next step forward.

Even in the darkness, even in the indecision, I knew the day was going to come where the darkness would be covered in light.  I knew the day would come where the porch would again shine.  Slowly, surely, the day did arrive.As the circuit was energized yesterday afternoon, the switch flipped, yes, the light did shine.  With a smile I instantly knew that I would be back.  I wanted to let the light shine in the darkness.  I wanted to see this light shine at night.  I wanted to see the message in the night.

So that's what I did.  I went home to have dinner and patiently waited.  As darkness settled in, I knew the light was shinning on West 17th.  I couldn't wait so I ventured that direction.  As I approached, I simply couldn't wait.  

Yeah, the old beauty shinned again.  The front door graced in light, the pillers appeared as beams of light.  The message clear.  I never left, patiently I waited for you to bring me new life.  To allow me to shine, to allow me to live again.

The parrallel's to my life's journey.  The darkness, waiting to be covered in life.  The house is me, it's us, we're both arriving home.  It's good to be home, within.  To shine again, the message in the light.  

 

Growing pains...

I remember growing up how badly my legs would ache at times.  From my sophomore year in high school to my senior year, I grew 4".  It felt as though I was being stretched nightly and the ache is something I still remember to this day.

The parrallels to the past years have been amanzingly similar.  For the longest time, I really thought my life changed when Blake died.  If I were to be truthful, it all changed when my first divorce took place. 

The tragedy was my first true experience of inner crisis.  Broken, regret, scattered, anger, hopeless, frustrated, the list of emotions, actions and reactions to what I was feeling could go on and on.  It was my first experience of trying to pick up my sticks.(I will blog on dropping the sticks another day)

The crisis that followed my divorce was the first real experience of looking within and openly sharing what I was thinking.  Then, much like now, I took on the renovation of a very old home.  As I did the renovation, I began feeling the growing pains, only these pains were from within my heart and mind.

Many times during the reonvation of the home I'm doing at West 17th, I've stood back and had flashbacks of across the street doing the Elm Street house. (For those of you who don't know, I'm a renovator of anything.  I rebuild homes and through this work, I see how I've restored my life.  I've come full circle, now restoring a home built in 1909 and it sits directly across the street from the historical home I restored when my son died)

The difference between Elm and West 17th is that I've had many growing pains.  The death of my son, a second divorce, the emptiness that transpired.  I've felt crisis like never before, yet I'm here today living a life in the moment and filled with treasure.  Honestly, as I sit and write this morning my eyes are filled with tears at how I've grown.  

The tears are a mixture of saddness and happiness, I'm still growing and will forever grow within.  It's when I began seeing the single blade of grass within the meadow did I understand that my strength comes from within.  It's not always a rock, sometimes the pressure is overwhelming.  

Yet here I am, in this moment.  Blessed beyond measure, in my weaknesses and strengths, a rebuilder of lives.  It's good to be home within.  I traveled 33,000 miles to this place, within.

 

 

Traveled 33,000 miles to...

A couple years back I posted "When I began doing things that appeared insane to others, I was actually on a path seeking my sanity. From that point, I began living in MY reality". 

I find so much truth in this statement. Tragedy leads to chaotic thinking and we do things we may not normally do. Our minds are grasping for a previous life. We are in crisis.

Tragedy is any event that tosses our routine into turmoil. Death, job loss, illness, divorce, they all leave our minds scattered. It's our natural intuition to bring it back in order.

When I decided to live in my car and travel the country, I was in a desperate attempt to bring order to chaos within. I made a decision that may have seemed insane to many to seek my my own reality. 

I lived in that chaos for many many miles, sorting the past. I wasn't looking for a magic potion, I simply needed a reason to live. Not one that you provided for me, but one that came from within.

My path was unconventional, but it led me here, to my reality within. If you know someone who is struggling, looking for a reason to live, just listen to them. Allow them to find their unconventional path back, as it's their path to discover.

I traveled 33,000 miles to cross the street. It's not the distance I traveled, it's the experiences along the way. It's living in the moment. It's seeing heaven on earth.

Event Calendar

S M T W T F S
 
 
 
 
 
 
1
 
2
 
3
 
4
 
5
 
6
 
7
 
8
 
9
 
10
 
11
 
12
 
13
 
14
 
15
 
16
 
17
 
18
 
19
 
20
 
21
 
22
 
23
 
24
 
25
 
26
 
27
 
28
 
29
 
30
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Add to My Calendar