Gratitude, terror and a new house

This is not our house. 

We are buying a house and I sort of can’t believe it’s actually happening. Just like dating or job hunting, finding the house was facilitated by a combination of persistent internet searching (hello, Redfin), heartbreaking rejection, continued obsession and perseverance (there’s a thin line between those two things), and lots of help from people who both knew what they were doing or just cared enough to listen to us complain when things weren’t going so well.

And now, though a couple things are still up in the air, it is working out and we are going to move in about a month. And when giant life things like this start going my way, like when I got a new job or when I fell in love with Mike, I am both incredibly grateful and entirely terrified. I can’t help but wonder when things might come crashing down. This is, I guess, just part of having some life experience and knowing that, at any moment, things could get tough in a bad way, as opposed to tough in a good way. Bad=like when mom got cancer. Good=we have to pack and clean and lease our apartment because we found a house we love and it’s going to be a lot of work. 

Too many random bad things happen to good people, and I don’t believe in purification or redemption through suffering. I think it would be great if things could just be easier for everyone. But I was raised Catholic, and beyond just trying to have faith that it will all work out, I find myself looking for reasons why this is coming together so nicely.

“Someone’s looking out for you,” my dad said. And so I quipped at my mom, “Who’s the patron saint of subleasing?” And then it occurred to me that, of course, it’s Dottie Claes, my grandmother.

Grandma Dottie was a real estate agent until she was 80. She looked like your typical sweet grandma with her white hair and big glasses, but she was smart as a whip and didn’t take any shit. Grandma always listened intently to my problems, specifically my teenage angst about getting busted for not doing my homework. When there was heartbreak or drama, she would advise, “This too shall pass.” It was an infuriating motto because it was true. She’d seen all of it pass, and there she was.

Grandma raised six kids and worked for many decades before she was forced to retire because, well, she was 80. I miss her so much that I still, several years after her death, get the impulse to call her to chat. There was something so wonderful about knowing that when Grandma picked up the phone, she’d exclaim, “Krissy!!!” like me calling was the most delightful thing that happened to her that day. And, you know, Grandma’s life was pretty great regardless of my phone calls. She had 13 grandkids and tons of friends in her retirement community and lots of other friends besides. But she was so demonstrative in her appreciation. She taught me how important it is to be grateful when people show up for you. To acknowledge those efforts with three exclamation points.

Really, I know why things are working out for me. It’s because so many people have shown up for me over and over again. My parents worked very hard and gave me a wonderful childhood and sent me to college, and I’ve been privileged to find and work at several excellent jobs because of their ongoing support and that degree. And we have savings because of them and a safety net if things should fall apart and, at the very tail end of all that, I worked my ass off to find this house.

Dottie is also the patron saint of just doing the work.  

So really, rather than wondering if lightning is going to strike our new chimney, I just need to make sure that my parents, Mike, my friends and family (and Dottie if she’s hanging out somewhere listening) understand that I am so grateful for their support. Their continued support. Because we have no idea how to take care of a house.