a house grows in south lorain

I don't remember a lot about my house in Brooklyn on E. 37th St. The few vague memories that I do have were formed during the summers that we returned to visit my mother's sister. I remember the heat, the rolling blackouts, the noise and the temple a few doors down with the imposing iron gate, but it was never really a home to me.

The majority of my first six years were spent in Westlake in a tiny yellow house on Hall Drive. I became a big sister in the yellow house. We had a fruitful pear tree out front. I nearly met my death when I choked on a lifesaver in the driveway. Once my dad caught a gigantic rat in the crawlspace and somehow convinced my mother it was a mouse. 

I was too young to comprehend exactly what it was that moving meant. I remember that I cried the day we left. My dad asked me why? But the only thing my six year year old self could express was that I would miss the pear tree I happened to be standing under. He promised me a new pear tree before loading us all into his Plymouth and heading out.

That house and those memories were soon left in my past with all of the excitement and adventure waiting for me at the almost new, big white house in a neighboring suburb. We moved in in 1975 and that house remained my home and my home away from home until my parents sold it to a friend 2002. Even though things are different, I love being able to stop by and reminisce.

Well, the time has come to move again. We are relocating to a new old house that is a better fit for a teachers salary. (http://familyof9.blogspot.com/2011/04/radical-change.html?m=1) It is also so much close to Kevin's work and closer to the population of clients I serve in my home childcare. 

We have been actively searching and bidding on foreclosed homes for about 2 years. Fortunately, we were outbid on every one until we found our gem. An all brick, 4 bedroom colonial with an open floor plan. It even has a grape arbor, water garden, AND...a pear tree! We closed on it late last month and had hoped to get moving with a few repairs and be in by June. That plan hit a snag when the water department arrived and turned on the main. Soon after they left it started raining in the kitchen.

I called my very good friend, fellow loss mom and prayer partner Cass. I was lost. This home had been prayed for and prayed over by so many people. This home was going to be a place of ministry. Ministry to our life group and ministry to low income families in the neighborhood. Ministry to my husband's student runners. And now it was raining in the kitchen.

Cass lives not far away(location, location, location) so she arrived promptly and brought her pastor/tire salesman/hvac tech/all around handy husband with her. He is the kind of husband you would want on a desert island. It didn't take long for him to break it to me very gently that we had bought a money pit.

(To be continued I promise.)