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| Chandler posing at Joe's Crab Shack - Don't know where he gets it from! |
We found it. After numerous homes, two potential offers that were eventually pulled and endless driving all over Kingwood, we drove by a nice French Colonial home in Bear Branch. It was perfect. It even had the magnolia tree in the backyard that she had hoped for in addition to a bay window looking out to the backyard. We put in an offer the next day and moved in by December of 1999.
Chandler was only three and my time away from youth ministry? Not even a year yet. Spencer? Not even a glimmer of a thought. There, before us, stood our future. We built memories at this home that will last forever. I cannot begin to write the numerous times we all laughed (sometimes to the point of tears), had friends over for meals or card games, hosted Super Bowls, played kickball out front, teeball and baseball, took walks around the block or on the greenbelt, and many many many other memories from our family.
2009 changed all of that. Friday the 13th came and went like an atomic bomb. Now, almost three years later, the house was finally sold. Happy memories were replaced with haunting ones. Flashbacks became nightmares in the middle of the night. Tears of sadness and hurt substituted the laughter. Walking down a hallway, I could almost hear voices from the past, but the hallowed sounds were not holy anymore, but curses. Instead of bringing me to my knees in humility with the blessing of a full family, I fell to my face begging for answers and eventually the deliverance from what was once a refuge which had turned into a place filled with heartache and anguish.
No matter how many ways I changed the furniture around, painted walls, took down old pictures/paintings and placed new ones in their places, the memories still played in my mind like a looping movie reel.
Now, we had a buyer and the sale went through. We held an epic garage sale. Whatever didn't sell, we donated to HAAM. The next weekend, we spent the time putting everything together for the packers. After the packers finished, we made the move to the apartment. Spencer stayed the night with some friends. We had just about finished trucking everything from our sold 4 bedroom 2 1/2 bath 2800 square foot home to our 2 bedroom 2 bath 1200 square foot apartment.
Chandler and I drove the Jeep back to the house for a few extra things before we went to bed at the apartment. As we walked into the house, an eerie feeling came over me. I was brought back in time to the first time I had walked into the family room in 1999. I remembered feeling the new carpet, seeing the leaves rustle in the Magnolia through the cool autumn breeze in the backyard, and the smile on her face that this was the place. I must have stood in the middle of that room for 5 minutes before snapping back into reality.
I started to fill one of the boxes with a few things and ended up filling the Jeep with a number of our belongings. I opened the back door and realized that I had not seen Chandler since we arrived. I knew where he was. I could feel it. As I pushed open the door to what was once his room for the vast majority of his life, he sat in a lone chair against the wall next to the door. A tear fell down his left cheek and he wiped it away.
I hugged him. We talked about the numerous memories in his room. Endless nights of reading books in his bunk bed with the cool light bulb hanging over his top bunk. Nerf basketball matches so intense that his closet doors eventually had to come off. Sleepovers. Neighborhood kids playing kickball. The memories were many. We both struggled to find words. I gazed upon Chanlder's face and he mine. We both hugged and wept for a good 5 minutes. We had to leave this house. We both knew it. We both knew how hard it all of a sudden had become to do just that and yet we knew it was the right thing.
I asked Chandler if he wanted me to pray. He said yes. So, I took his hands into mine and prayed. I wept as I praised God for all of the good memories at this wonderful home that he had blessed us with for almost 13 years. I also thanked Him that He opened the door for a new place to build new memories and have a new beginning for the three of us.
We stood. We hugged again. We walked to the Jeep and slowly drove away down the street for the last time together away from his childhood home. It was over yet we both knew that God had acted so quickly to sell this house that there was no mistaking the fact that we were walking the right road and that the Lord was in the middle of everything. God brought a smile to my face as Chandler drove back with me to the apartment. I was proud of my 16 year old. He opened up and we had a very intimate father/son moment that I will never forget for the rest of my life. We shared stories. We wept. We prayed. We rejoiced. What else can a dad ask for?
My grace is sufficient you...One Day At A Time!
