We are too old for this. Perhaps it is punishment for our sins. Maybe it is just the jest of the devil to make us curse our lot. It might be intended as a little entertainment, so others will sit up and notice and appreciate that their lives are sailing more smoothly these days.
My husband and I have moved to Ohio from Arizona. The September day when our house was sold, and we got into the car to drive to Ohio, the temperature in our southern Arizona town was 110 degrees. Now I am at the computer at two in the morning in an unheated room in our house. (My computer is in what may have been the original pantry in our 1855 house; the baseboard heater makes noise but won’t heat). The temperature outside is in the teens, and there is still snow on our car because we bought a house with no garage and we were blessed with some of the gifts of winter storm Gia.
I have barely looked at or thought of my blog in the last five months. I assure you that there was no personal slight intended for my kind readers. We have just had our hands full. Every day since October 10 we have been dealing with the results of a move that caused catastrophic damage to our possessions.
As you may know, my husband, 18 years my senior, made the call to move us closer to my family. His father was told by his Wilmington, Delaware doctor that he needed to get to a warmer climate if he wanted to be able to move without constant pain. His dad moved his young family to Arizona where my husband has lived most of his life. We should have remembered that bit of history. My husband is now in nearly constant pain from arthritis in his back and has started going to the hospital for physical therapy twice a week to learn exercises to help him cope with the pain. Please don’t offer advice to us. Say a prayer for us.
We believe that our moving van may have rolled over at some point on the move. We have dozens and dozens of pieces of damaged furniture, broken china, damaged belongings. We filed a claim with the mover, but according to the United States Post Office, they attempted delivery on two successive days and sent us different reports about how each of those attempts failed. Please don’t offer advice to us. Say a prayer for us.
We are without a church home, or rather, our home congregation is in Arizona, and given the exhausting work of every day we have not yet found a new church home. We have been given a variety of advice on this particular subject. I have been gently reminded that my parents didn’t bring me up this way. Please don’t offer advice to us. Say a prayer for us.
Much of the well-meaning and kindly intended advice we have been given has added, not subtracted from the burden of these days. We know it is offered to help us. We know that we are loved and supported. Still, we kindly beg the advice-givers to cease and desist. Instead, we ask that you offer your prayers for us. Seriously. Please. If you aren’t praying for people, just think kindly of us. If you can be persuaded, please consider leaving a dollar or two by following my donate button over on the top right column. That would be a great help.
On the positive side, we have located a company that repairs antique furniture, and they have given us a quote for fixing ours, all of which they have told us is repairable. While we continue to pursue payment from our movers, we have approached the company regarding repairing our furniture piecemeal as we are able to pay.
On the positive side, we are still emptying boxes and finding walls that need photographs and paintings. We are periodically taking time after meals to read out loud from one of the books we gave each other for Christmas. When we are bone weary, we have watched one of the DVDs that my husband was given by his adoring wife for his nearly-milestone birthday. (The Rialto Theatre, as we have dubbed our TV room, also has a baseboard heater that won’t work; although this one doesn’t even attempt to make any noises.)
Our pastor quipped, at a little reception held after church for three of us that were moving out of state, that perhaps our lovely 1855 home might be The Money Pit. Such a wise man.
We have had lovely Christmas cards and notes from friends and family near and far. These have been a delightful distraction and have caused us to imitate the great Duke Ellington who sent Christmas cards out all year long, even in the dog days of summer. We wrote our first two Christmas cards last night after dinner.
Thank you for checking in and reading this long overdue post. Thank you in advance for sharing it, for remembering us in your prayers, and for your kind words and good wishes. We have chosen to do our best to be of good cheer, to give thanks, to keep on keeping on, to love each other, and to remember that despite all, we are in good hands.