Life as a House

 

In just a couple days, we will pull away from this beautiful little home for good. 

How can this be?

This house became ours in 2007. We had Gwen's second birthday in the pool around the back. Brought Owen home from the hospital in February of 2008. Hosted countless bbq's, sleepovers & fancy lady parties under that roof. Tackled too many home improvement projects to count. 

We changed wall colors, ripped up tile, expanded patios, fancified closets and turned the backyard into a vacation oasis. It's a beautiful house. 

But I want to tell her story, not brag about her looks. 

This house has been the setting of our story for seventeen years. Here, we grew from a family of 3 to 4. Went from play kitchens & bath toys to all the towels and silverware hiding in Owen's teenage bedroom. We evolved from car seats to 11:30 weekend curfews...with a side helping of a dad who never slept until they were safe at home.

This house witnessed many a family disagreement, job changes, better grades lectures & a steadfast marriage that was the bedrock of it all. A marriage marinated in so much good, but also marred by tragedy. 

Geoff & I were forced to break stage 4 cancer news in the living room to both Gwen & Owen. We spent the summer of 2022 doing all we could to keep Geoff alive. We emptied the designated barf bowl into the toilet, we lined up medications to soothe nausea & diarrhea on the kitchen counter, we heated the hot tub in the height of our desert summer to warm Geoff's freezing body. 

We witnessed him take his last breath in our bed.

None of what I've written of can be packed in boxes, but all of it comes with us...tucked into the folds of this family- forever. These memories- whether steeped in beauty or pain- are knitted into the three of us, serving as the tether to our favorite angel in Heaven. 

As we prepare to cut ties, we know another family is in the wings- making plans for this house to become the setting for their upcoming story. When you love something very much, it's difficult to imagine someone else can measure up.

But I feel God in this story. His hand is all over this chapter, carefully choosing who comes next. And I'm so grateful for that peace. 

This will never be just a house for the Hayballs. 

New family, I have a couple of humble requests;

• Please take care of the Meyer Lemon tree in the backyard. My parents gifted it to me when I became a California Teacher of the Year Finalist. It produces the most fragrant blossoms and beautiful, full fruit every year. 
• Remember to keep the hummingbird feeders full. I left one in the the Palo Verde tree for you. Geoff visits us as hummingbirds, and we've had 2 nests in our yard since he left for Heaven. They are wonderful creatures that effortlessly lift a bruised spirit. 
• Think of us occasionally when you gather as a family of four around the firepit on a chilly desert evening. That firepit was a crown jewel to my husband, and Geoff loved nothing more than a big bowl of soup & the people he loved most gathered around a project he took from dream to a reality.
• Nurture the olive tree in the front yard. My parents planted that as a Christmas gift the first Christmas we were without Geoff. It's sturdy and will grow tall, similar to the person it's meant to honor. 
• Let this home be your respite from our chaotic world. As much as this house changed with our needs through the years, it was a constant bubble of safety and warmth for us. I believe it's her superpower. 

Leaving this house has proven to be a new grief...a grief that has spanned many months as we decided to leave, watched others look through her as she was for sale, packing her up, emptying her walls & cupboards, and sitting in the stripped down version here at the very end.  

We leave her as we found her...a blank canvas. 

As we prepare to hand off this sacred baton, I am brimming with emotion. If this house was made of Legos, it would be packed & ready to go with us. We are leaving her behind because we are being called to write a brand new story, in a brand new house. 

But goodness- this part of growing & change is incredibly hard. 

I think that's the only way you really know you're doing it right...the pain. Anyone who tells you growing feels good is a liar. Evolving is incredibly lonely & scary. It forces you to loosen your death grip on the very things that kept you alive at one point. 

This house kept us alive for a long time in the depths of our loss. 

But I have to believe what is waiting for us is a peace that cannot exist in this chapter. It will take turning the page & stepping into the unknown. None of that happens without gobs of fear. 

So we bid farewell- with heavy hearts, but hopeful spirits. We have loved our time here, but it's time to go...

home

Ironically, As I'm typing these words the song, "Home", by Jeremy Riddle began to play. To fully understand the hugeness of this sign, you'll have to listen to it yourself. 

keep going