Waiting in Expectation

You know how there are re-occurring themes in your life? Well, one of the ones that comes up for me all the time is home. And because of the circumstances of my life, I end up moving often, which really whacks my sense of having a home. One of the aspects of this theme that always stirs me up into a cauldron of miscontented pessimism is when I'm looking for a new place to live, or a new roommate.

I start off with optimism, hope, and good cheer. Sure that a good solution will present itself to the complicated math formula of large space with lots of storage + roommate (agreeable temperaments x 2) + reliability + (pets x 3) + manageable deposit + location within commutable distance of work + manageable rent + safe location + reliable landlord.

Lately, the situation had become
- agreeable and
- reliable roommate
- reliable landlord

So, I'm once again looking for either a roommate to share the house and help me stir the landlord to action, or for a place I can move into by myself, with the roommate part of the equation removed.

I am deadline oriented. So it feels like a constant pressure to find a place is on me, pushing at the back of my neck, hurrying me and threatening doom if something isn't figured out immediately. This feeling then whips up into a blind hopelessness and certainty that a solution won't be found that will work.

This time, I am trying with all my willpower to trust that a solution will appear. That the last minute solutions are fine, and sometimes, they actually help - as with apartments offering increasingly better deals when they have a place they can't rent - it's kind of like a bluffing card game, where if I wait it out, I might get a winning hand when they fold and give me a rate I can afford.

But it is really hard to go against my nature that wants a clear, doable plan. And it's hard to say, ''God, you are in control of this. Though I am so fearful that you aren't. Though I don't really have any good options that I can see right now. I want to fix this NOW and get this pushy, bulldozer feeling off my back.

The theme is so familiar now of waiting on God in expectation, and the fight to hope on the unseen.

Yet, each place I've lived has been fine. It's had its good points that I loved and its annoying points that grated. Because they were all temporary, I knew I could always change them once the lease was up. The lovely escape clause. None have been horrible. Right now, I am torn between loving the house I'm in and frustration with the landlord. I have a gorgeous yellow-leaved tree framed in the living room window that is a lodestar at the moment as I write this. I have a sweet winter vegetable garden outside the back door. I have covered parking for the winter. But the downstairs is untenable, and it adds to the utilities for an unusable space (except for storage).

Maybe I could rent out the spare bedroom and basement for storage, and not deal with a roommate at all. Hmmmm. That would be sweet. Not really realistic, but a nice thing to think about since I don't have any concrete options to dwell on.

I don't even know if I should start to pack up. And that means I have lots of extra energy to burn, with all this impetus to make something happen. So, I'm trying to use the time to go through things and pare down what needs throwing out, donating, organizing. At least that is a helpful outlet for the frustration.

Right now, I just want to sit and watch the leaves glimmer in the breeze glinting with sunshine and shadow, I want to breathe and see a few of them float down and add to the crunchy layer already on the ground, I want to believe something good is to come.

Percy Warner park on a Sunday

I went hiking on Sunday with Sean to Percy Warner park. It was the perfect fall day, and the park was full of people enjoying the weather and photographers capturing holiday snaps of families.

There are these steps leading up to the trail. They kick my butt.

(photo borrowed from http://www.flickr.com/photos/fallingwater123/3492528442/)

I promised myself I would go slow and not worry about going slow. As in, not beat myself up for having to stop for breath many times up the steps.

On Sunday, going slow was a treat, as I got to enjoy some special people and dog watching. But my friends know I have to remember to look up, as I look down when I'm walking much of the time. So, I was looking down at the steps, when I hear a little girl belt out "see that girl". I look over to see a 4 year old, curly-headed brunette, in her element, jaunting down the steps, punctuating her progress with phrases of song.

I recognize the lyrics, but I'm trying to figure out what song it is.

See that girl
a few steps
Watch that scene
a few more steps
She is the dancing queen
step and repeat...

I can't believe it - she is singing "Dancing Queen" from Abba! Then, to make the moment even more awesome, her dad joins in!

Can I tell you I love it when dads are silly with their kids. My dad was really great at that. Somehow, men who all of their single lives wouldn't be drug onto a dance floor because of terror of looking silly, will, when they are dads, jiggle a jive with their toddler in front of Trader Joes' main entrance, mindless of people coming and going (also on Sunday). Or sing Dancing Queen with their 4 year old daughter as much of Nashville mills around the park.

And I love to hear little girls before they get self-conscious. Who sing a song with so much moxie. Before they are so old they need to be intoxicated to do it, in a tacky karaoke bar.

See that girl!

She is the dancing queen!