HEALTH WARNING: this is going to be a venting post.
I feel like the kid who, sitting in the back seat, constantly asks" "Are we there yet?" when you're on a long car journey. I just want to BE THERE already.
I'm fed up of all the boxes everywhere. I'm fed up of having to live out of them and around them, and not being able to find my stuff. I'm fed up of the chaos. I'm fed up of having contractors in my house. I'm fed up of the noise and dust and mess. I'm fed up of not having enough shelves and space to put all our stuff (and no, I don't want to get rid of it all...). I'm fed up of Alyssa being on the verge of panic that we're about to abandon her every time we move a box or a piece of furniture. I'm fed up of Baggins charging out the door (and into the road) every time we open it. I'm fed up of not having blinds up in our room, or proper light fittings in some of the rooms. I'm fed up of the new stuff in the house still having teething problems. I'm fed up of things not just being the way I want them. I'm fed up of the garden being such a tip.
As far as being pregnant goes, I'm also feeling hugely fed up about that. I'm fed up of being unable to bend over, lift things, push things, pull things. I'm fed up of getting severe heartburn the moment I even vaguely bend at the waist. I'm fed up of these blasted contractions that do NOTHING (if they were at least proper ones, and achieving something, that would be different... all these Braxton-Hicks ones do is cause me severe discomfort or pain). I'm fed up of having a bladder the size of a pea. I'm fed up of getting leg/ foot cramps in the middle of the night. I'm fed up of being unable to turn over in bed at night without pain/ severe discomfort. I'm fed up of not sleeping well. I'm fed up of having pelvic pain (my body has been producing relaxin since the beginning of the 2nd trimester, instead of only starting to produce it now' so as a result, my ligaments have all relaxed FAR too much and my pelvis has come apart - and yes, it's as sore as it sounds) and being unable to walk far or easily. I'm fed up of having to inject myself every day and take other medication every day. I'm fed up of not being able to get comfortable in any position (standing/ sitting/ lying down) for any length of time. I'm also fed up of the worrying that this baby is going to die and the frequent dead baby thoughts.
As far as work goes, I'm fed up of marking. I'm fed up of being fed up about marking. I'm fed up of having to deal with stupid kids and their discipline issues. I'm fed up of having to deal with parents of kids I have to discipline. I'm fed up of having to be there at 7.45am. I'm fed up of getting no marking done because of the rubbish I have to deal with & loose ends I have to tie up.
Please? Please can we just GET THERE already?
(And yes, I know it will all be worth it in the end - the house will be lovely & the baby will be fine. Knowing what the end or future result will be - in the case of the house at least - does not make it any easier to go through all this stuff in the present.)
Showing posts with label moving home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving home. Show all posts
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Horticultural hour
After several weeks of doing nothing in the garden, this afternoon I decided to tackle a few pots that needed attention, as well as one area where several seedlings had sprung up when the parent plant was removed.
After getting quite a bit done, I finally approached the last task of the afternoon. One pot contained a plant that needed re-potting. It had needed re-potting when we first moved in here, back in September, but I just haven't had the time or inclination to tackle it before today. I gathered the required equipment, and set to work.
After a while, Graeme (who was bathing Nellie at the time) called to me out of the window to ask if I needed help. A while later, Nellie called out to ask if I was ok (all together now: ag, sweet!). The reason was that I was making a tremendous amount of noise trying to get this plant out of the pot. It was well and truly pot-bound. I tried everything: knocking it on the ground while on its side; sticking various tools down the side between the soil and the pot to loosen the roots; scraping at the soil with my fingers and pulling on the plant. All to no avail. Eventually, the only solution was to break the pot it was in. (I think it was an asbestos pot... certainly it was made of something fibrous... so I wasn't too upset.)
During this process, I fund myself talking to the plant. Talking to plants (and inanimate objects) is something I do. Force of habit, I guess. I found myself telling this poor plant to stop being so obstinate, and to let go of the pot. I told it that it would be much happier in its new, bigger pot, with room to spread its roots, and lots of new fertile soil to get nutrients from. But of course, the plant wasn't letting go because its roots had grown into the pot.
Reflecting on this, I realised that often we are just like this plant. We get so comfortable in our little lives that we simply refuse to allow ourselves to be moved. Although we are dying and stagnating where we are, we simply can't extricate ourselves from our situations - either because we are too scared we will lose some of our 'roots' (which happens when you re-pot a root-bound plant), or because our 'roots' are so firmly embedded into our 'pot' that no amount of shaking or coaxing can dislodge us. Then, there are only two options available - refuse to move and die; or break the 'pot' in order to enable ourselves to move.
With everything that we've been through in the past 2 years, I think I'd quite like to get comfy in my life. We've been looking at buying a house - not just any house, but THE house we want to live in for the rest of our married lives, THE house we want to raise our children in. When we move into THE house, I never want to move again - or at least, not until I need to downsize because I'm moving into a retirement village! I want to get comfy.
I think we've found the perfect house... it ticks all the boxes, has development potential to stop me getting bored too quickly and has this... FEELING about it. It's hard to describe. I know that many people will say this is new-agey, but I can sense a spiritual atmosphere in buildings and in certain areas. This house and me... we click. I know this house will be mine one day.
There is a slight problem though - this house is out of our price range. Only just, but enough that we can't afford it without putting ourselves in dire financial straits. I've had to grapple with reconciling how I feel about this house (it's not the prettiest, by far... it actually needs a lot of work) with what common sense tells me. We simply can't afford this house.
As I ponder my horticultural hour though, it dawns on me that getting comfy is not all its cracked up to be. So maybe it's a good thing we can't afford this house.
That doesn't stop me dreaming about it though. I have dreamt about this house every night now for over a week. That's never happened to me before! Things that I've dreamt about like this have usually been relationships that I've wanted or needed to figure out. I've never dreamt about an object like this before, which in itself seems rather revealing to me.
When I was a teenager, I remember someone telling me that I ought to be specific when asking God for a husband, and to be as picky as I liked, because God could (and would) provide someone who ticked all my boxes. The fact that this house ticked all the boxes - both the needs and the wants - seems pretty remarkable to me. Maybe it is meant to be ours, but we need to wait a few months for the asking price to come down. (Though how others who have the money wouldn't want to snap this property up is beyond me - it's an incredible property!)
Usually I'm not comfortable waiting. Usually, I'd be miserable as sin and sulking and stamping my feet, because I WANT this house and I'd wangle a way to get it. Unusually for me, I'm actually ok with letting it go. I've written to the owner, and the agent, to say that while we are interested, we can't afford it, and to give us a ring in a few months if it's still on the market. I can't explain it, but I have this odd peace that this house will come into our possession... maybe just not now. Maybe we will wind up buying something else and then buying this house in a few years time. I don't know. What I do know is that the God who has been so faithful to us in every other way will be faithful to us in providing the perfect home for us - which may not be my ideal home, but which will suit us perfectly never the less. (And secretly I keep thinking that if THIS house is already on the horizon, and it's not meant for us... then God must have something truly amazing lined up for us!)
And so it's struck me that this past year, as we've grieved Zoe, as we've been reliant upon the support of others for a home and for our finances, I've grown up a bit. I think I've learnt to be more content in being uncomfortable. While I long to get comfy in my little pot, I'm more tolerant of being uncomfortable, in a less predictable situation. I've learnt that, while things seem unclear to me, somehow, they always work out okay in the end. How that happens, I don't know. It's a mystery, but one that God is in control of; one that a humble root-bound plant in a pot reminded me of this afternoon.
After getting quite a bit done, I finally approached the last task of the afternoon. One pot contained a plant that needed re-potting. It had needed re-potting when we first moved in here, back in September, but I just haven't had the time or inclination to tackle it before today. I gathered the required equipment, and set to work.
After a while, Graeme (who was bathing Nellie at the time) called to me out of the window to ask if I needed help. A while later, Nellie called out to ask if I was ok (all together now: ag, sweet!). The reason was that I was making a tremendous amount of noise trying to get this plant out of the pot. It was well and truly pot-bound. I tried everything: knocking it on the ground while on its side; sticking various tools down the side between the soil and the pot to loosen the roots; scraping at the soil with my fingers and pulling on the plant. All to no avail. Eventually, the only solution was to break the pot it was in. (I think it was an asbestos pot... certainly it was made of something fibrous... so I wasn't too upset.)
During this process, I fund myself talking to the plant. Talking to plants (and inanimate objects) is something I do. Force of habit, I guess. I found myself telling this poor plant to stop being so obstinate, and to let go of the pot. I told it that it would be much happier in its new, bigger pot, with room to spread its roots, and lots of new fertile soil to get nutrients from. But of course, the plant wasn't letting go because its roots had grown into the pot.
Reflecting on this, I realised that often we are just like this plant. We get so comfortable in our little lives that we simply refuse to allow ourselves to be moved. Although we are dying and stagnating where we are, we simply can't extricate ourselves from our situations - either because we are too scared we will lose some of our 'roots' (which happens when you re-pot a root-bound plant), or because our 'roots' are so firmly embedded into our 'pot' that no amount of shaking or coaxing can dislodge us. Then, there are only two options available - refuse to move and die; or break the 'pot' in order to enable ourselves to move.
With everything that we've been through in the past 2 years, I think I'd quite like to get comfy in my life. We've been looking at buying a house - not just any house, but THE house we want to live in for the rest of our married lives, THE house we want to raise our children in. When we move into THE house, I never want to move again - or at least, not until I need to downsize because I'm moving into a retirement village! I want to get comfy.
I think we've found the perfect house... it ticks all the boxes, has development potential to stop me getting bored too quickly and has this... FEELING about it. It's hard to describe. I know that many people will say this is new-agey, but I can sense a spiritual atmosphere in buildings and in certain areas. This house and me... we click. I know this house will be mine one day.
There is a slight problem though - this house is out of our price range. Only just, but enough that we can't afford it without putting ourselves in dire financial straits. I've had to grapple with reconciling how I feel about this house (it's not the prettiest, by far... it actually needs a lot of work) with what common sense tells me. We simply can't afford this house.
As I ponder my horticultural hour though, it dawns on me that getting comfy is not all its cracked up to be. So maybe it's a good thing we can't afford this house.
That doesn't stop me dreaming about it though. I have dreamt about this house every night now for over a week. That's never happened to me before! Things that I've dreamt about like this have usually been relationships that I've wanted or needed to figure out. I've never dreamt about an object like this before, which in itself seems rather revealing to me.
When I was a teenager, I remember someone telling me that I ought to be specific when asking God for a husband, and to be as picky as I liked, because God could (and would) provide someone who ticked all my boxes. The fact that this house ticked all the boxes - both the needs and the wants - seems pretty remarkable to me. Maybe it is meant to be ours, but we need to wait a few months for the asking price to come down. (Though how others who have the money wouldn't want to snap this property up is beyond me - it's an incredible property!)
Usually I'm not comfortable waiting. Usually, I'd be miserable as sin and sulking and stamping my feet, because I WANT this house and I'd wangle a way to get it. Unusually for me, I'm actually ok with letting it go. I've written to the owner, and the agent, to say that while we are interested, we can't afford it, and to give us a ring in a few months if it's still on the market. I can't explain it, but I have this odd peace that this house will come into our possession... maybe just not now. Maybe we will wind up buying something else and then buying this house in a few years time. I don't know. What I do know is that the God who has been so faithful to us in every other way will be faithful to us in providing the perfect home for us - which may not be my ideal home, but which will suit us perfectly never the less. (And secretly I keep thinking that if THIS house is already on the horizon, and it's not meant for us... then God must have something truly amazing lined up for us!)
And so it's struck me that this past year, as we've grieved Zoe, as we've been reliant upon the support of others for a home and for our finances, I've grown up a bit. I think I've learnt to be more content in being uncomfortable. While I long to get comfy in my little pot, I'm more tolerant of being uncomfortable, in a less predictable situation. I've learnt that, while things seem unclear to me, somehow, they always work out okay in the end. How that happens, I don't know. It's a mystery, but one that God is in control of; one that a humble root-bound plant in a pot reminded me of this afternoon.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Off-line
Oh yes, before I go back to bed, I ought to mention something. Telkom (the national telephone company - and yes, we only have one!) will only be able to connect our new phone line towards the end of the week. We haven't ordered broadband yet, but when we do (hopefully we'll get around to that this month) it apparently takes about a fortnight to get Telkom to connect you. In the meantime, we'll have to use dial-up, which (as any of you who have broadband will know) is like going back to the stone age (plus is incredibly expensive), so I seriously doubt I'm going to have the patience (or cash) to blog using dial-up. So, the nett result of all this is that we're probably going to be 'off-line' for a few weeks. Email will still be up and running, although our replies will probably be rather short.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
It's here!
Yes - our stuff is finally here... and we have our computer back! YAY!
Of course, we're not going to unpack anything, because we move again in a week and a half. Sigh! But at least our computer is unpacked. What joy!
Speaking of which - I've downloaded all my photos off my phone that I've been storing for the past month or so. Now I just need to find the time to reduce them so that I can upload them onto the blog. WATCH THIS SPACE!
Other than that I am happy to report that I have been appointed as the Head of Life Sciences at Pinelands High. I'm pleased about that, because as long as it takes to get Lovely Laitjies up and running properly, I need an income. (Of course, having a job will slow down the process of getting LL up and running... which is a slight hitch in the plan....)
I've been having a few bad days recently, thinking about Zoe a lot. I guess that's an indicator that I'm starting to feel more settled, because it means that I'm not so stressed I can keep the grief at bay any more. So I guess that's a good thing. Of course, letting the grief out is a good thing anyway. But it does mean that I'm having a rough time. I broke down in church on Sunday, and I was on my own because Graeme was sick in bed. One lady stopped and offered to pray, and I found that so hard on so many levels: I was on my own; I knew just about no-one in the service; I didn't want to refuse prayer because I needed it, but I didn't want to tell this stranger why I was crying; I didn't want to go home in a state because Graeme was sick and didn't need that... it was just awful. Fortunately though, a friend came to the rescue, so I cried on her shoulder for a bit. But even that felt odd because we haven't really talked about Zoe and it felt like I needed to do that first. While it helped, it also made me miss my friends back in London even more... (Jobs - I miss you like crazy! I miss our teas like crazy! PLEEEEEEZE come and visit!)
OK - time to stop before I get even more upset.
I should just say that from the beginning of Sep I'm going to be offline again a bit for a while. Telkom can only install our phone line mid-Sep, and then it will take another few weeks to sort out broadband. Sigh! The joys of living in a 3rd world country. But hey - the view of the mountain every morning just about makes up for that!
Of course, we're not going to unpack anything, because we move again in a week and a half. Sigh! But at least our computer is unpacked. What joy!
Speaking of which - I've downloaded all my photos off my phone that I've been storing for the past month or so. Now I just need to find the time to reduce them so that I can upload them onto the blog. WATCH THIS SPACE!
Other than that I am happy to report that I have been appointed as the Head of Life Sciences at Pinelands High. I'm pleased about that, because as long as it takes to get Lovely Laitjies up and running properly, I need an income. (Of course, having a job will slow down the process of getting LL up and running... which is a slight hitch in the plan....)
I've been having a few bad days recently, thinking about Zoe a lot. I guess that's an indicator that I'm starting to feel more settled, because it means that I'm not so stressed I can keep the grief at bay any more. So I guess that's a good thing. Of course, letting the grief out is a good thing anyway. But it does mean that I'm having a rough time. I broke down in church on Sunday, and I was on my own because Graeme was sick in bed. One lady stopped and offered to pray, and I found that so hard on so many levels: I was on my own; I knew just about no-one in the service; I didn't want to refuse prayer because I needed it, but I didn't want to tell this stranger why I was crying; I didn't want to go home in a state because Graeme was sick and didn't need that... it was just awful. Fortunately though, a friend came to the rescue, so I cried on her shoulder for a bit. But even that felt odd because we haven't really talked about Zoe and it felt like I needed to do that first. While it helped, it also made me miss my friends back in London even more... (Jobs - I miss you like crazy! I miss our teas like crazy! PLEEEEEEZE come and visit!)
OK - time to stop before I get even more upset.
I should just say that from the beginning of Sep I'm going to be offline again a bit for a while. Telkom can only install our phone line mid-Sep, and then it will take another few weeks to sort out broadband. Sigh! The joys of living in a 3rd world country. But hey - the view of the mountain every morning just about makes up for that!
Sunday, July 01, 2007
And now, the end is here, and so I face the final curtain...
When I was a little girl, I used to listen to my parents' (LP) records (those that I hadn't mangled anyway). There was one of Sinatra's song 'My way'. I know that for Christians it's anathema because the focus is seemingly on self-reliance rather than trust in God, but I love that song. The sense of pragmatic joy gets me every time. Can you imagine getting to the end of your life and knowing that you've lived a good life, that you've done all you could, that you've achieved all you could, that you've lived life to the full, to overflowing? Can you imagine living a life in which you've wrung every lost drop of emotion and experience from it? What a life! With or without God, what a life!
Looking back on our time in London I can't say I've lived that kind of life. Sure, I've done some stuff, and I don't regret the things I've done. But I regret the times I didn't do - the times I could have done something and chose not to - I could have made more of an effort to go to the theatre, or see some shows, or travel to the continent. I know why I didn't, but I wish I'd made more of life while I had it.
The saddest thing of all though, is knowing that having these thoughts now won't make me make the most of life in Cape Town. I just know that, before too long, I'm going to be stuck in a nice comfortable rut. I know that, because I like being comfortable. I don't like having to do without, or making do, or pushing boundaries, or taking risks (so quite why I'm so determined to start my own business is really beyond me, except to say that I'm really excited about it!). I like my sleep, I like to laze around the house. I like to indulge myself. And none of those things are compatible with the kind of life that, at the end of it all, says - I've lived a life that I'm proud of.
If I want God to say 'well done', then I need to get off my butt and stop being so comfortable. I'm not advocating a life of 'doing stuff' - but a life of truly 'being': spending time with Nellie and Graeme, and my siblings and their families, doing a job that MAKES A DIFFERENCE, making time for those who need me (not just those who like me, or love me), most of all - making time to sit at God's feet.
Will those things happen when we move home? I don't know. I hope so. I fear not. Time to face the final curtain on this chapter of our lives...
Looking back on our time in London I can't say I've lived that kind of life. Sure, I've done some stuff, and I don't regret the things I've done. But I regret the times I didn't do - the times I could have done something and chose not to - I could have made more of an effort to go to the theatre, or see some shows, or travel to the continent. I know why I didn't, but I wish I'd made more of life while I had it.
The saddest thing of all though, is knowing that having these thoughts now won't make me make the most of life in Cape Town. I just know that, before too long, I'm going to be stuck in a nice comfortable rut. I know that, because I like being comfortable. I don't like having to do without, or making do, or pushing boundaries, or taking risks (so quite why I'm so determined to start my own business is really beyond me, except to say that I'm really excited about it!). I like my sleep, I like to laze around the house. I like to indulge myself. And none of those things are compatible with the kind of life that, at the end of it all, says - I've lived a life that I'm proud of.
If I want God to say 'well done', then I need to get off my butt and stop being so comfortable. I'm not advocating a life of 'doing stuff' - but a life of truly 'being': spending time with Nellie and Graeme, and my siblings and their families, doing a job that MAKES A DIFFERENCE, making time for those who need me (not just those who like me, or love me), most of all - making time to sit at God's feet.
Will those things happen when we move home? I don't know. I hope so. I fear not. Time to face the final curtain on this chapter of our lives...
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