Roots and Wings

We’re moving next week.

I’m not going to lie – I’m having a really tough time saying goodbye to my house. Sure, most people would agree that it’s difficult to part with a place in which so many memories were created over the course of 11 years. But this home represents so much more to me. This is the home where I brought my babies after my divorce. This is where we planted our roots as a threesome, and learned to navigate our broken world, then eventually pick up the pieces and put it together in a new form.

This home is where I learned to be independent, relying on myself to handle anything that arose. If something broke, I was the one who had to fix it. Yet this independence had its benefits. I had my own room – and the entire house, every other weekend – to myself, so I could stay up reading or watching movies until 2 am, or crank up music and sing at the top of my lungs (which was highly therapeutic, by the way), without having to worry that I was bothering anyone.

That was the first time in my life that I was in charge. I had either lived with my parents, my college roommates, or my husband throughout my life. But having my own home forced me to define what was important to me. I didn’t have to compromise with anyone, but I did have to finally get to know myself after an entire life of molding to others’ wants and desires.

I delved into the self-help world and conscientiously worked to uncover what made Christine tick. Not Christine, the daughter who wanted to make her parents proud; not Christine, the wife who wanted to keep the perfect home for her husband; not Christine, the mother who wanted to make sure that her children were happy and loved. Just Christine, the person. I wanted to strip away all of those labels and figure out what I was passionate about when I wasn’t being passionate about other people.

This is the home where I discovered who I was, whom I am. When I leave, will I forget this person?

There are times that she already seems like a distant memory. While I’m currently in a healthy marriage where I’m comfortable expressing myself, I find that I slip into old patterns of people-pleasing and forgoing my wants and needs for my husband or my children. But then I remember what it was like – what I was like – on my own, and I make sure to do something for me.

In addition to independence and a sense of identity, this home has also given me security. Not just because it’s in a good neighborhood and has an alarm system (but that helps). This house literally embraced me and my child as a monster tornado ravaged our town, completely destroying much of Joplin, including the homes across the street from us – mere feet from where my youngest daughter Lauren and I were huddled in our shelter.

But this house, she was strong.

She took a beating, but stood her ground and held her head high. Yes, parts of her were damaged, but her foundation remained intact. After some time, she was put back together. When all was done, she appeared the same as before the storm, yet she was forever changed by her experience of it.

Strength. This home showed me how to be strong, to weather storms, but remain standing; to feel broken, but pick up the pieces and form something new.

Something better.

Right now, I can’t imagine a better life than I’ve had in this home. I’m forever grateful to her for introducing me to myself, and for wrapping her arms around me in the process.

Most of all, I’m grateful that the time spent with her has given me the courage to fly confidently into the next chapter of my life’s story.