Demolition Creates an Unbroken, Open Heart

On Sunday, Ken and I went to Ypsi to spend a long-overdue afternoon with my parents.  My mom worries about me but we talk on the phone every couple of weeks.  Dad doesn't speak on the phone anymore as he simply can't hear the conversation, and even emails are few and far between.  And I - I'm not the best at keeping in touch with them regularly, so I looked forward to speding some in-person time catching up.  Dad napped most of our visit in the recliner while my sister and I chatted with mom.  As much as I wanted to stay longer, I also needed to get home as I hadn't yet had a chance to do the necessary pre-chemo sanitizing and cleaning of the house, and Ken and I still needed to stop at Briarwood for him to pick up some new work shirts (this is an opportunity that only presents itself once every few years, so I wasn't passing up the chance to go shopping with him for clothes that weren't socks or underwear.  Or socks.  Or underwear.)

It's late afternoon and our tummies are growling, so Ken suggests dinner.  I'm really wanting to get home, but he insists (he enthusiastically bought four shirts with no arguing, so why not celebrate?!)  California Pizza Kitchen, white corn and avocado guacamola, pear-gorgonzola pizza - tummies are now sighing with happiness.  But really, we need to get home, so off we go.

Long day, but still so much to do.  Back in town sitting at a stop light, I'm wondering if I can sneak in a short nap before I get to work cleaning, when Ken shows me a picture on his phone of our granddaughter Nevaeh.  "Look at that," he says.  "It's Vaeh, with The Lady" (a now headless statue so named by Vaeh as a little girl, when she would hug it and profess her love).

"Uh-huh, okay," I said, but really thinking, Why are you showing me this?  Just let me rest a minute.

"It's a nice picture," Ken says, enlarging it a little bit, and I start to see other people in the picture.  On our back deck.  In our lawn furniture.  I'm confused.  "When was this taken?" I say.  I don't remember Mike or Chrissy being at our house...wait, is that Dylan and Sara?  Andy?  Ashley?  Michael and Tori and Stephanie and Josh, wait that's my sister, I just saw her a couple hours ago...like, there's a pack of people in our back yard. Wait, wait...what, when were they at our house...?

"It was taken today," Ken says.  And smiles.  And I'm even more confused when he says, "They've been busy today.  They tore down the garden shed.  And finished the work in the basement.  And cleaned the house."

And that's when it all starts to make sense, in that way that something doesn't really make sense because it just can't possibly be true, and all the words leave my brain and my mouth and the tears start to run down my cheeks except I still can't quite comprehend how this has happened.

I'm calling out the Crew of Angels:  Back Row: Michael, Ashley, Mary, Stephanie Tori, Sara (weilding a mean hammer), Josh and Dylan.  First Row: Chrissy, Nevaeh (with Tori), Mike, and Andy.

We turn the corner on our street and see cars lining both sides.  Pulling into the driveway I see a few familiar faces moving around in the garage, the back yard, coming out of the house.  My daughter Stephanie greets me with the world's biggest hug - and I melt again, crying on her shoulder, realizing the enormity of the gift in front of me.  Our garage is organized, thanks to Tori.  The guys (with some help from Nevaeh, apparently) have dismantled the blue play house/garden shed, which now lays in a pile next to the deck.  Steph says, "Let's go see the basement."

Ken and I had mostly finished the basement ourselves 16 years ago so it seemed like un-finishing it ourselves would be equally enjoyable and fairly easy.  There was a bedroom with no egress window that had morphed into a craft room, as well as a full bathroom that hadn't been used in probably 8-9 years.  The space was fairly unusable as it was, so it make more sense to take out what we had once built and leave the space wide open again - a rumpus room, if you will.  So we'd started the demolition by removing the interior walls - then *bam*, stupid cancer and stupid chemo, and working with the dust and dirt was exhausting and not the best choice, so we sorta stopped halfway through the demo.  The damned basement mocked me and my frickin' diagnosis every time I went down to throw in a load of laundry.  And my sun room - so cold and dark in February, but now bright and warm with spring around the corner - is filled to the brim with all the crafties and assorted storage items from the former craft room.

Today, there was sledging and electrical-ing and plumbing and demo-ing in our basement.  The interior walls are now gone, the old bathroom ceiling ripped out, water pipes capped off, electrical outlets removed, carpet gone.  Nothing left but the wide-open rumpus-y area ready for reconstruction (thanks in large part to Ken's three-page manifesto and painter's tape markings on all things To Be Shit-Piled):

Rumor has it there's a piston in Dylan's gigantic sledge hammer that gives it some extra "oopmh!!"

There is a giant pile of stuff under a tarp in the driveway (now I understand why Ken was talking about a dumpster again this morning...), and another giant pile - our old garden shed - on the side of the deck.  Many stories of the destruction were told that cool and damp Sunday evening (and a few videos captured) but from what I can gather, the shed was torn apart just enough that the boys were able to rock it back and forth, back and forth...until they pushed it over into a heaping pile on the ground (with a few good jumps on the sideways roof from Josh beore Steph wagged the Wife Finger and yelled about health insurance).  Even Vaeh got in a few licks with her hammer:

That moment when Sara had to put the guys in their place because we were almost home...

As Dylan eyed our garage with glee (no, Dylan, we still need our garage, thank you), and I listened to the stories of afternoon adventures, I learn there were more people in attandence that had already come and gone and participated in this blessing.  Friends and family came together and by all accounts, everyone had a blast and no one was hurt.  

So over the last couple of days I find myself still crying gently because I'm overwhelmed by the love and kindness and generosity.  I'm humbled by all of this, and reminded of the attitude of gratitude I often lose in my everyday life.  I realize I forget to give back as much as I receive - and during these journeys I have received more love and gifts of the hearts of others, than I have ever been or will be able to repay to them.  It can be difficult and even painful to receive these gifts when I feel unworthy somehow - it's something I have been doing a lot of deep and painful work on understanding (my Protestant work ethic gets all up in my face too much).  But I know I can pay it forward in other ways, and I am energized to continue doing that in small ways, big ways, each and everyday.  This gift reaffirms my deeply held belief that we are all part of a global community, coming together to help each other not out of need but out of love and care for others, and for ourselves.  The giving is more fulfilling than the receiving, and in the end it all comes back around to each of us as it builds the global community stronger than before.

Every little thing you do for someone else - acknowledge or not - makes a difference in their lives.  Just meeting someone's eyes and smiling, nodding, as you pass on the street, could be the sun that brightens their day.  Saying good morning to less-than-liked coworker, paying for the coffee for the person behind you in line, really listening to what others are asking for (with our without words) and then helping that happen - it's the little things that quickly become the Really Big Things that change lives.....and heal souls and hearts.  The unintended and often forgotten consequnce of this reaching out is that it changes YOUR life, and heals your heart and soul too.  And it comes back around to you at the most unexpected moments, at those times you need it the most.  

So by reading this blog you've become a part of this global community, too.  Find time in the next day or so to smile, say hello, listen to someone else, and create an opportunity for joy and giving.  You'll come away with more joy and peace in your heart than you could have ever expected, and this radiates out into the world like a wave of peace and happiness that will influence those around you.  

Do this for yourself.  Because your heart and soul and spirit and consciousness and YOU deserve it.

And to my Sunday Angels - I love you all and thank you for your help.  Those words feel hollow and less-than-expressive of the gratitude we have, but it's what I have for now.

Thank you.