GOOD-BYE

2 : a taking of leave

Last night, we hosted our final party at our home on Setliff Place.  After we decided to sell our house, found a new home, readied our home to go on the market and received an offer - all far more quickly than expected - I told J that I really wanted one last party here.  It would have made me sad to leave without a final gathering.  I wanted to celebrate previous moments here, mark the occasion of our departure and be surrounded and encouraged by friends as we close this chapter in our lives.  After all, one thing I've loved about living here is filling our house with friends and family. 

A few weeks ago a good-bye party seemed like a great idea.  So I set the date, sent out the evite and carried on with life's daily tasks of packing, teaching, cleaning and cooking.  Yesterday morning, the full import of my plan hit me and I sent J the following text while he was out running errands, "Having a party tonight might be my craziest idea ever.  How am I going to get this house even somewhat ready for guests?!?  Next time, you must save me from myself. ;-)"

Moments later, a friend swung by to pick something up: 

"Doing OK?" he asked. 
"I think so," I replied somewhat uncertainly.  "There's a lot left to do before tonight."
"Are you an extrovert?"
"No!"
"I didn't think so.  It surprised me to see you were having a party this close to moving," he said.
"I know.  But some of our best moments in this house have been parties, so I wanted one more to help us say good-bye." I explained.
He nodded and headed off, leaving me to finish cleaning and readying our house one last time.

Sometime later, I was giving B instructions on getting her room clean.  "Vacuum your rug and then put the vacuum cleaner back in A's closet."  No sooner were the words out of my mouth, than I had the thought, "Won't it be nice to live in a house where the vacuum cleaner doesn't have to go in a bedroom closet?"  I'm not sure this thought was entirely my own because it, combined with a lovely dream fulfilled via our party, has helped me re-orient my thinking about our move.  The decision to see and dwell on the many blessings that await us will undoubtedly help me get through the next nine days.

And the party?  It was all I had hoped for and more.  New and old friends mixed, mingled and snacked.  Children played inside and out.  Conversations ebbed and flowed.  Football games were won and lost.  Food and drink were shared.  Stories were told.  Laughter was heard.

One friend who came last night had never been to our home, so I gave her a brief tour.  As I did, I described the various renovations to this house over the years.  It made me realize that we are leaving it a different home than it started.  We are leaving it with a far more functional kitchen, an open flow that aids parties, a master bath that is a true retreat and rooms that were filled with love, laughter and family.

There is much we will miss about these four walls.  They have not only sheltered us, but given us the chance to literally put ourselves into them.  Our daughters have grown here.  None of them even recall ever living anywhere else.  Our floors have held sleeping bags crowded with girls, spit up, toys, shoes and crackers crushed underfoot.  Each room has been a part of the story of our lives over the last decade.  And it is time for a new chapter.  A chapter that offers space for teenagers to stretch their wings, room to bring ballet into the home and even a long awaited chance to hang college mementos.

Independent of each other, two friends said to me before departing from the party, "You have the nicest friends."  As I lay in bed, recalling the night, these words came back to me.  We do have the nicest friends.  And they will go with us wherever we live, no matter the house.  It was a beautiful reminder of all we've been blessed with and all that awaits us - and that we don't have to do it alone.

PROVISION

1 a: the act or process of making preparation to meet a need

Over the last few days, I've made double batches of three soups (Tomato Florentine, Chicken Tortilla and Chorizo Black Bean Chili).  I've baked cowboy cookies, peanut brittle, lemon whippersnappers, chocolate sweet potato cupcakes and chocolate covered pretzels.  I've de-cluttered kitchen counters, dusted, swept, mopped and vacuumed.

My birthday is next Saturday, but tonight we hosted a party.  A lot of people came.  I've always loved having parties.  Even back in high school, I can remember hosting friends for a game night or a football game.  What I didn't realize (or think much about) until recently was my motivation for hosting parties.  As an Enneagram 9, I love filling my home with people from all of the different parts of my life.  I love school friends mixing with homeschool friends mixing with church friends.  It makes my heart happy and content to cook for them, host them and see them all together.

But this year felt a bit different to me.  For the past six years, we've done a roughly bi-annual birthday party for me.  There was no birthday bash last year, but we did host an open house the day after Christmas.  I was on the fence about whether to have a party this year because A is in the Nutcracker, which makes for a very busy December.  As I was still pondering what I wanted to do, K took matters into her own hands.  Before a date was even set, she started inviting people.  I took that (strong) hint and decided to go for it.  Deciding not to be bound by tradition, I picked a date exactly one week before my birthday - the Saturday before Nutcracker starts.

We set the date for the party and invited people several weeks ago.  And then the week of the party arrived and I struggled.  My extended family is going through some very difficult times and my body's response to processing all of these emotions is exhaustion.  This is not a great stress reaction to have when you're about to host several dozen people for a party.  I have a friend who can be found scrubbing her floors while processing emotions.  That's a stress reaction I could have used.  Alas, it wasn't to be.

On Saturday morning, I lay in bed with J and told him that all I really wanted to do was curl up into a ball and be alone.  He said he could tell that's how I felt, but that I'd love it once the party arrived.  I just had to finish the cooking and the preparations.  It would all be worth it.

Even on the day of a party, regular life doesn't stop.  A and K had ballet in the morning.  B had basketball.  Then A and B had a youth group party to attend in the afternoon.  (Mercifully, a friend was driving them to and from this party.  They would otherwise not have been able to go.)  About 30 minutes before K was due to get home from ballet, a friend called.  "Do you have a minute?" she asked.  "Sure," I replied, "I'm just heading out to buy brown sugar because of course I've run out of it six hours before a party."  My friend was calling to see if K could come over and play after ballet.  What a gift this was - a few more hours alone in the kitchen to finish the last batch of cookies.

Earlier that day another friend had called.  "I'm in Goodwill. They have tons of Christmas mugs on sale.  Did you say you needed a few more for tonight's party?"  She bought me ten, washed them and brought them to the party, thereby ensuring every adult had a Christmas mug to hold their soup.

At about 4 yesterday afternoon, I headed upstairs for a quick bath before the party.  I took a few minutes to read the daily office in Celtic Daily Prayer and realized as I prayed that the timing of this party was God's provision.  Had I not seen K's desire for a party and responded, I likely would have spent the day curled into a metaphorical ball.  I would have read a book, taken a nap and tried to numb the pain.  Instead, I cooked, cleaned and prepared my house for guests.

A friend at the party surveyed all of the food and said to me, "So for your birthday you cooked all of this and invited us all over?"  When I replied affirmatively he said, "That's funny.  I much prefer letting someone else do all of that on my birthday."  But even as I've had a difficult week and had a hard time getting motivated to be ready for this party, I've know and realized that hosting parties is one way I love others.  Let me not give the impression that my house was spotless for this event, nor that the food was entirely homemade.  Publix and Trader Joe's provided most of the appetizers so that I could concentrate on soups and desserts.  But everything I cooked was made with gratitude for friends who were willing to spend a Saturday night with us.

As I chatted with a friend at the party, I told her how I thought God knew even better than I did what I needed on this day.  And he provided it in a big way: through friends who helped with children and party supplies and through a party that I wasn't sure I could muster the energy to host.  The energy arrived when I needed it - and not a moment before.  And the party provided a reminder that sadness has its place, but that I should not forget all of the people in my life who love me.

Looking back on this party, I'm amazed at how well it went.  I'm amazed at how many people came.  When I host a party, I am terrible at limiting the guest list.  Since part of my motivation for having a party is to bring together all of the parts of my life, I want to invite everyone.  I can't stand the idea of someone feeling left out.  So I tend to over invite and trust that it will work out.  Perhaps I over invited this time.  By my best count, there were sixty-one people here last night.  But it definitely all worked out.  There was enough food, a lovely and mild December evening for the children to run around in the backyard and God's spectacular early birthday gift of giving me eyes to see his provision for me.

SUPER

1 a: of high grade or quality

K's Drawing of our family Super Bowl Party

On Super Bowl Sunday last year,  I was confined to the couch.  A few days past surgery, I was incapable of attending, planning or executing a party.  J stepped in.  He bought appetizers, prepared them, served them to our girls as they sat scattered around the living room, watching a bit of the game, but much more interested in the food.  Sounds a lot like most Super Bowl parties, right?  It was a sweet moment for me.  J knew my limitations, wanted to make it a fun time for our girls and took care of everything to make it happen.

This year, we debated what to do for the Super Bowl.  With the Packers playing, our family has more of a vested interest.  J was born and raised in Wisconsin, a long time Packers fan.  I, on the other hand, was weaned on college, not pro, football.  It was the Crimson Tide that first earned my love on the football field.  But in the first years of our marriage, J introduced me to the fun that pro football could be.  It was a magical time to be a Packers fan - back when Brett Favre looked poised to be a legend, not a laughingstock, when he made it look like he was playing the game for the fun of it. Those days are long gone and J and I have less time to spend watching football on Sundays - and less opportunities to see the Packers televised.  But we are still, as a family, excited to see the Pack play tonight.

When the NFC Championship game rolled around, J and I talked about what we should do if the Packers won.  Host a Super Bowl party?  If so, how big?  We talked about keeping it small - maybe inviting some neighbors over.  We like many of our neighbors, but quite honestly do a poor job of forging better relationships with them.  This might be a nice opportunity to get to know them better.

But then we watched the NFC Championship game.  And it was so nice to just sit and watch the game.  A watched a bit of it with us, reading her book during some of the plays, looking up for her favorite commercials (a preview of tonight, no doubt).  K wandered in, watched a few plays, then went back to her room to play.  B stayed out of the living room, choosing instead to curl up with a book in her room.  J and I simply watched the game, with no small talk, no hostessing, no distractions.

After that experience, J and I conferred.  I admitted that I would really prefer to try to copy last year's experience, with a bit more help from me this time around.  I told J I thought would we would have a better chance of actually watching the game if it were just our family.  And this way, we could put the girls to bed at halftime.  He agreed.

Our girls were less than thrilled.  While my daughters fill the complete range from introvert to extrovert, they all, without exception, love a good party.  So when we told them we were having a family party, there was an uproar.  What's a party without a house full of people?  J and I held our ground.  This was what we had decided would be best and we were moving forward with it.  Given that first K, then J, then I have been sick since Monday evening, I am grateful not to be hosting a gathering - however small or large it might have been.  I am, thankfully, feeling a bit better today and J is well enough to run errands, which wouldn't have been possible earlier in the week.

Our girls' disappointment at the announcement of a family Super Bowl party did make us up our game a bit.  I bought football plates and napkins.  J is out buying Nashville's best cupcakes right now.  They will be accompanied by J's dad's Chip Dip, lemon hummus, cheese nachos, ham and cheese crescents, chips, crackers and the smallest of nods to nutrition in the form of baby carrots and celery to house dip or hummus. I have no doubt it will be a super evening.