I made an unplanned trip to Nashville last week. I decided on Saturday afternoon, left Sunday morning, and got back Thursday evening. I went because someone was interested in renting my house and said that the sooner I found a place to live, the sooner he would take over! His plan was to pay my mortgage payment each month while renting my house out to someone else for more money than he paid me, and he would keep the excess as payment for managing things. Eventually - with no set time frame for this - he might even buy the house from me.
Sounds almost too good to be true, doesn't it? But I was referred to him by someone I knew and trusted, someone who grew up with this guy and vouched for him. I was sure God brought us together because this was the answer to my prayer and my way to get to Nashville sooner rather than later. I was so excited, and so grateful, that I didn't think to ask a lot of the questions I probably should have asked.
When I got to Nashville, my son started asking me questions that I didn't have answers for, like: what happens if he doesn't pay the rent; what happens if he rents it to someone who doesn't pay the rent and then trashes the place; what happens if he dies? The more we discussed it, the more my soaring spirits fell.
I went to bed that night, but didn't get much sleep. The next morning, as I was heading out to look at apartments, I decided to stop and see the realtor that I had used before. He voiced the same concerns that my son had, and told me it was a risky proposition, because the bottom line was that I was liable if things went south because I am the owner of the house. He suggested I get a real estate attorney to look over any rental contract, and also encouraged me to get answers to my questions.
I didn't rent an apartment in Nashville. I did look at a couple just to see what was available, since it's been thirty years since I rented an apartment, and didn't really know what was out there. I found out that rentals are in short supply in Nashville right now and rents are more than I imagined they would be, at least in any of the places I'd consider living. I also looked at some condos, just to compare the two. I was checking out my options.
I came back to Pittsburgh with a lot of questions and a much more realistic outlook. I've talked to the rental guy, and some of my fears have been diminished. I'm still feeling like this might be a good thing. But this is a big step, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I'm still thinking about it. It is, however, another option, a tool that is available if I choose to use it.
Several weeks ago I taught a Reiki master class, and during the attunements, there was a very long message from God that came through. Part of the message was about God giving us tools to use to help us on our journeys. He said, "...remember that just because you have a tool available doesn't mean it's time to use that tool. You need to develop discernment." That's what I'll be doing over these next few weeks, working to discern whether this is a tool that I'm supposed to use to get me to Nashville, or whether it came into my life for another reason. I'll let you know what I decide.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
In the hallway...
I'm tired of being in this in between time. I believe it's all serving a purpose, but I don't like it. I want my house to be sold so I can move to Nashville and begin the next part of the journey.
Of course, as I wrote that, the thought came to me that this is the next part of the journey! I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, right here, right now. I'm in the hallway.
What does that mean? A number of years ago I attended a small non-denominational church on a fairly regular basis. Because the church didn't have a full time minister, each week they had a guest speaker, sometimes a visiting minister, sometimes a lay person. I never knew what to expect when I walked in.
One Sunday the speaker was a minister from a church in Ohio. Her sermon was about times of transition. She reminded us that each time one door closes, another opens. However, she also reminded us that God's timing can be quite different from our own, and it's not unusual for there to be a period of time between the closing of one door and the opening of the next. She suggested we see that period in between as being 'in the hallway,' making our way from the door that closed to the door that would open.
According to her, it's a very appropriate and much needed place to be. For us, it's a time to look back over what we are leaving behind, grieve the loss of what was, and open ourselves to the excitement and possibility of things to come, even if we don't really know what those things are. She said this was a time of preparation, and that everything we did here would help us as we moved forward.
But for me, there was an even more important observation. She said this time in the hallway is also a time for God to bring together all the various aspects that needed to come together to enable that new door to open! And even if that hallway seemed much longer than we expected it or wanted it to be, it was exactly as long as it needed to be for God to put all the pieces in place for our next move.
She did warn us, however, not to 'camp out' in the hallway: not to make ourselves so comfortable in that in between space that we didn't want to leave it when the next door opened. Somehow I think I believed that if I accepted I am exactly where I'm supposed to be, that I should be comfortable being here. But maybe those two things don't necessarily go hand in hand. Maybe I can trust in God's timing and still be uncomfortable. In fact, as I remember that sermon, it seems that I'm almost better off being uncomfortable, so that when the next door finally does open, I'm ready to walk through it.
Of course, as I wrote that, the thought came to me that this is the next part of the journey! I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, right here, right now. I'm in the hallway.
What does that mean? A number of years ago I attended a small non-denominational church on a fairly regular basis. Because the church didn't have a full time minister, each week they had a guest speaker, sometimes a visiting minister, sometimes a lay person. I never knew what to expect when I walked in.
One Sunday the speaker was a minister from a church in Ohio. Her sermon was about times of transition. She reminded us that each time one door closes, another opens. However, she also reminded us that God's timing can be quite different from our own, and it's not unusual for there to be a period of time between the closing of one door and the opening of the next. She suggested we see that period in between as being 'in the hallway,' making our way from the door that closed to the door that would open.
According to her, it's a very appropriate and much needed place to be. For us, it's a time to look back over what we are leaving behind, grieve the loss of what was, and open ourselves to the excitement and possibility of things to come, even if we don't really know what those things are. She said this was a time of preparation, and that everything we did here would help us as we moved forward.
But for me, there was an even more important observation. She said this time in the hallway is also a time for God to bring together all the various aspects that needed to come together to enable that new door to open! And even if that hallway seemed much longer than we expected it or wanted it to be, it was exactly as long as it needed to be for God to put all the pieces in place for our next move.
She did warn us, however, not to 'camp out' in the hallway: not to make ourselves so comfortable in that in between space that we didn't want to leave it when the next door opened. Somehow I think I believed that if I accepted I am exactly where I'm supposed to be, that I should be comfortable being here. But maybe those two things don't necessarily go hand in hand. Maybe I can trust in God's timing and still be uncomfortable. In fact, as I remember that sermon, it seems that I'm almost better off being uncomfortable, so that when the next door finally does open, I'm ready to walk through it.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Rising water...
A week or so ago I dropped a bottle of water, cleaned up the mess without another thought, and then realized how differently I would have responded to that same spill just a few years ago. I patted myself on the back for how far I had come in my healing process and how well I had let go of the old patterns of behavior that would have resulted in negative self talk and negative emotions that most likely would have carried over into the other activities of the day.
On a CD that I was listening to by Louise Hay on one of my trips to Nashville, she mentions that when we work on an issue and finally think we have healed it, we often find ourselves saying or thinking that because it is healed, we are done with it. We will never need to address it again. She then asks, but how do we know it is healed? The only way to know for sure, she says, is for the Universe to provide us with another opportunity to address the issue again and see how we handle it. For it's only in revisiting it in some way that we can truly know if we have healed it.
I thought it made a lot of sense when she said it, and last night I had a chance to experience just such an opportunity. That spilled bottle of water last week really wasn't much of an issue: no broken glass, a small amount of clear water, nothing stained or wet other than the kitchen floor, which cleaned up easily. Of course I handled it well!
Yes, last night, the Universe decided to see just how far my efforts to heal myself had taken me! I went down to the basement and put a load of laundry in the washer, turned it on and went back upstairs. When I heard the last cycle complete, I went downstairs, ready to move the laundry to the dryer. I was greeted with a strong, unpleasant odor and a pool of raw sewage in my basement!
Boy was I surprised! Not pleasantly, of course. No one wants to deal with that stuff. But the bigger surprise for me, and a good one, which I realized after it was all over, was that I handled that stinky, black muck on my basement floor just like I did the puddle of clean water when I dropped that glass bottle on the kitchen floor. I did what I had to do. I moved the laundry to the dryer, cleaned up what I could of the mess on the floor, went upstairs and called the plumber and left a message about what had happened. And then I went back to watching television. No negative self talk, no anger, nothing. I had done what I could do. The rest was up to the plumber when he got here.
I'm not patting myself on the back this time. I've learned my lesson. I don't want the Universe to test me out in even bigger ways right now, although I'm pretty sure bigger hurdles will present themselves at some point. But I do think it's interesting that I was given an opportunity to see what I would do, how I would handle it, if the mess I had to clean up was bigger than just a small spill of clean water. Perhaps it's God's way of showing me that I'm ready to handle bigger things, positive as well as negative.
On a CD that I was listening to by Louise Hay on one of my trips to Nashville, she mentions that when we work on an issue and finally think we have healed it, we often find ourselves saying or thinking that because it is healed, we are done with it. We will never need to address it again. She then asks, but how do we know it is healed? The only way to know for sure, she says, is for the Universe to provide us with another opportunity to address the issue again and see how we handle it. For it's only in revisiting it in some way that we can truly know if we have healed it.
I thought it made a lot of sense when she said it, and last night I had a chance to experience just such an opportunity. That spilled bottle of water last week really wasn't much of an issue: no broken glass, a small amount of clear water, nothing stained or wet other than the kitchen floor, which cleaned up easily. Of course I handled it well!
Yes, last night, the Universe decided to see just how far my efforts to heal myself had taken me! I went down to the basement and put a load of laundry in the washer, turned it on and went back upstairs. When I heard the last cycle complete, I went downstairs, ready to move the laundry to the dryer. I was greeted with a strong, unpleasant odor and a pool of raw sewage in my basement!
Boy was I surprised! Not pleasantly, of course. No one wants to deal with that stuff. But the bigger surprise for me, and a good one, which I realized after it was all over, was that I handled that stinky, black muck on my basement floor just like I did the puddle of clean water when I dropped that glass bottle on the kitchen floor. I did what I had to do. I moved the laundry to the dryer, cleaned up what I could of the mess on the floor, went upstairs and called the plumber and left a message about what had happened. And then I went back to watching television. No negative self talk, no anger, nothing. I had done what I could do. The rest was up to the plumber when he got here.
I'm not patting myself on the back this time. I've learned my lesson. I don't want the Universe to test me out in even bigger ways right now, although I'm pretty sure bigger hurdles will present themselves at some point. But I do think it's interesting that I was given an opportunity to see what I would do, how I would handle it, if the mess I had to clean up was bigger than just a small spill of clean water. Perhaps it's God's way of showing me that I'm ready to handle bigger things, positive as well as negative.
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