the gift that keeps giving

tonight we took the kids to austin land and cattle to celebrate our 23rd anniversary. yes, we brought the kids with us - we're well aware of how few opportunities we may have left to (force them to) share in family time - so we take advantage of every one of them.

as is fairly common these days, talk drifted towards the new house - where things currently stand status-wise, where they are headed, next decisions to be made, personal preferences for this and that, etc. considering we started very early on with emmett's request for a circular bed, sunken of course (so as to achieve the full love-nasium vibe), and a metal commode (not unlike those you'd see in a prison), we feel that these family chats are invaluable in setting appropriate expectations and building family consensus.

we spent some time over dinner narrowing down choices for things like color and tile and cabinet finish selections. within reason, we're giving the kids the opportunity to provide as much input as possible and we're trying to take everyone's opinions into consideration. we all lost out home 8 months ago, and our new home is rising. it is a family affair, and we're all fully vested. it bonds us in a deep and profound way.

when those suggestions arise that are out of the realm of possibility (either because they're simply cost prohibitive, or just plain ugly) we resurrect the lottery fantasy. well, of course that particular idea might be possible *if* we won the lottery. not sure how winning the lottery would enable us to close our eyes to some of the more distasteful suggestions that have been made, but apparently in our imaginary world when you're rolling in the green a lot of stuff slips under the radar of good taste. regardless of the feasibility of it all, the lottery scenario has kept a lot of family discussions from veering way off track.

i don't remember what the specific suggestion was tonight that led us to the lottery game but before long there we were. and something really lovely was unfolding. instead of the immediate thoughts of the usual me-me-me variety, the kids were contributing some great ideas for how our lottery winnings would enable us to help others. first, a million dollars to miracle league. no one second-guessed that. next, what if we could provide our friend logan with unlimited funds to cover his medical expenses for the rest of his life? logan is 10, and he is emmett's buddy from miracle league for the past 5 years. following a stroke and a heart transplant before he was 1, logan has had more than his share of hardship in his 10 little years - and yet he smiles more than any child you know. talk about a hero. and logan's family has not had it easy, but they were some of the first to respond to our situation - with supplies and gifts and a shoulder to lean on - and logan's dad lance has since provided us with the amazing gift of his outstanding talent as a plumber, taking care of all of that for our new home.

next, we wanted to pay our builder and designer what we should be paying them for the tremendous gift they are giving us (yes, they collect a fee for their services, but we know better than to think it adequately compensates them for their efforts and investments). and one step further - emmett offered "what if we figured out everyone who has given us something, anything, since the fire, and paid them back?". or better, what if we could give them 100% return on their generosity?

aly said "but would they want that?"

we talked a bit more. we agreed that some would not want that. but it was still such a lovely exercise in giving. imagining the ability to give without limits. doing for others. letting go. realizing that less is so, so very much more. understanding the gifts we have been given and how we could spend the rest of our lives and all of our resources (real and imaginary) trying to repay all of the kindness that has come our way, and still falling short. and yet how beautiful and fulfilling it is just to try.

what a great anniversary gift. so great to see the kids wanting to give, so selflessly, with no consideration for their own desires.

of course we all came back down to earth from our righteous highs quickly when jack told the kids that, additionally, each of them would be able to choose a car of their liking.

emmett's response: "just one?".

love and laughter

"just remember, i'm only a phone call away" the magnet said. it has a vintage photo of a little girl holding a rotary phone up to her ear.

she's always been just a phone call away, my entire life. i am not fortunate to know what it is like to have a sister. my cousin donna is as close as i have gotten. we're four months apart in age. it's not really important who arrived first, though since you're wondering i will tell you - it was her. i am the much younger cousin.

we have always been close and hers is the unconditional kind of love that people dream of experiencing. she is so supportive, she is always building me up, always making me feel like so much more than i am. she forgives me all my shortcomings, she knows all my secrets, and we share lifelong inside jokes that reduce us to giggling 7 year olds whenever we revisit them. she was part of my wedding, and i was part of hers. when she showed up the morning of the wedding and asked "so what are you doing with your hair?". ummm... so she quick sat me down and whipped up a hairdo worthy of a bride, and added some makeup too. it was a cinderella moment. no chauffeur? no problem - she volunteered her husband to drive me the 1/4 mile to the church. and he even got out and walked around to open the door for me! it's all captured on our wedding video - which is, like so many other things, toast.

she has come to visit me anywhere i've ever moved - new hampshire, arizona, massachusetts, texas. and when we go to new england, she never asks why i'm not coming to see her or stay with her. instead she says "do you have time? can i come to you?". we have started a tradition of getting together with our girls, aly and amy, once a year, and that is some very special time for all of us.




inevitably, silliness abounds.
and so of course she was one of the first people i talked to on christmas morning. and amidst the tears, she found some way to make me smile. as usual.

the first box came, filled with clothes and gift cards for the kids (seventeen years ago donna had my godson matt exactly one month to the day before i had emmett - and my brother's son eli came just a month later - which marked our family's "summer of boys"). and then a second box came with the little "phone call away" magnet, and a copy of the photo memory book she had given us after our two families vacationed together on fire island a few years ago (the original of which had been lost to the fire), and this amazing scrapbook she had made for me filled with pictures from literally our entire lives (some of those hairdos. oh my. i'll spare you. or me.) and her comical commentary throughout...well, it lifted me up. it kept me connected.

and that was not all.

one day we received in the mail a letter from the firefighter's association of NY. in it was a nice note, and a check. donna had taken the time to find this organization, had written to them and explained our situation, and they had decided to send us a donation. from total strangers in new york. as if she had not done enough already.




so happy birthday, dear (much, much, older) cuz. and thank you for never letting me forget that you're always just a phone call away.

transformations

my recent fb update was "every day our house is transformed a little bit. and so am i".

it's been true. i'm not who i was. i surprise myself. and some days i kind of like it.

each day when i get home from work i walk over to the new house, the one that is rising. we're definitely so thankful now that we were able to rent a house right diagonal from our old home. on our little cul de sac, with the familiar neighbors and surroundings. at first it was hard being so close. i felt so sad when i would look at it, all dark and dying. all scorched and littered with remnants of what was. the demo was a tremendous step forward. sad, but necessary. gut wrenching, yet cleansing. i cried a lot back then.

i cry a lot now, but for different reasons.

so each day i spend about an hour just walking through the house, noticing what's new or changed since my last visit. the house is familiar, because we were fortunate enough to retain the slab - so the footprint is basically the same. and yet in my time wandering around over there i definitely feel like i am getting to know someone new. someone who, upon first meeting, you just know will end up playing a big part in your life.

some days the changes are big and impossible to miss - like the first day of framing, the day the roof went on, or the day the plumbing was all roughed in. other days the changes are more subtle - like when the tongue and groove soffits went in - subtle, but so special, one of kurt's special touches. and there have been days when i can tell something is different, though i can't put my finger on it. i'll search and search, but i just don't see it. so i'll ask jack "was anyone working at the house today?" and he'll say no. hmm. i think maybe those are the days when the soul of the house has grown some (can't you just hear jacko rolling his eyes?). all sorts of changes are there, each one bringing us one step closer to our home.

the changes i feel in me are similar. some seem big and all in my face - like my relationship with fire, obviously. i've always loved candles and campfires and fireplaces - i could sit and watch for hours, mesmerized by the power and the energy. now i just see the power and energy differently - there is some fear and some discomfort. and a whole lifetime of respect. other big changes are simple but powerful - expecting less, and giving more. some of the changes sneak up on me. like crying at those iPhone commercials. there i was minding my own business, watching "the office" and feeling fine and next thing i know, we go to a commercial break. deluge. and i thought it was bad years ago when i would tear up over the budweiser commercials with the clydesdale and the little boy in the wheelchair. but iPhone commercials? the line between laughing and crying has suddenly become very, very fine for me. sneaky.

there are superficial changes too. when we remodeled the kids' bathroom a few years ago, or the kitchen a few years before that, i knew exactly what i wanted (stop laughing, donna). stained cabinets, of course. granite countertops, without a doubt. travertine, and thick saltillo tile. and when we started this journey 7+ months ago, i would have assumed i'd be going down that same road. but of course that was the old me.

when kimberly suggested that we go with painted cabinets ("crisp and clean" she had said), i nodded politely but inside i am sure i was looking at her like she had two heads. and then she showed me some pictures and suddenly, much to my surprise, it was all i could imagine. suddenly granite and travertine seemed so heavy. too much. much more than i needed. i did a 180 in the blink of an eye.

so while some of the personal changes don't sound too appealing (like the spontaneous combustion, for example, or the fire aversion), i am somewhat tickled to be discovering this new me inside of me. like the house, my foundation is the same. but what is going up feels very, very different.