Change seems to rattle us (some of us more than others), and we can fall into patterns day after day of thinking and acting from which we don’t deviate — until something tumbles into our lives that demands a different response.
I once owned a piece of property with two houses on it — one a modest-sized home and the other a small mother-in-law cottage. The latter was used for exactly that; my mother lived there next door to us until she died. Afterward, I got a job in a distant city. Later I returned to university to earn a master’s degree, so I rented out the larger house, and the cottage sat empty for many years. During that time, a major plumbing problem appeared that I was sure would cost a sizeable amount to fix. I had decided that eventually I would sell both houses, but it weighed heavily on me that I couldn’t sell the cottage until the plumbing problem was repaired.
As a poor student in the city with living expenses of my own, I couldn’t afford to lay out the kind of money needed for the plumbing repair. So, I was stuck: I couldn’t move ahead in my life until I could sell the houses; I couldn’t even put the houses on the market until I fixed the plumbing, and I didn’t have the financial resources to do that.
I labored under this thought burden for years, even as I tried to arrange to meet with local plumbers or contractors to verify the actual situation and get accurate estimates of the cost of repair. I drove to the property (more than 400 miles round trip) at least once or twice to meet with someone, only to have no one show up.
I was at my wit’s end. As I was driving back to the city, with an angry, frustrated, hopeless, grumbling session swirling in my head, a gradual thought formed in my consciousness: Be open to the creative alternative. Where in the world did that come from?
I pressed on, graduated with my degree, remained in the city, where I continued in my job while studying for a further educational certification via an online program. When that finished, I knew I didn’t want to settle in the city, so chose to move to Pagosa, where I had some family. Once in a while during this time, the same thought would again seep into consciousness: Be open to the creative alternative.
After more than a year in Pagosa, I found a cabin that was “just me.” I knew I’d have to sell the other houses to get it. I contracted a different realtor who found a buyer within a month — a Texas couple — but we both knew I’d have to declare the major plumbing problem to the prospective buyers. I was sure they would retract their offer once they understood the problem. But, they didn’t. At the closing, the husband said in his Texas twang, “Oh, ‘bout that plummin’ problem, no big deeeal, ‘cause I’m a plumber.”
Years of fear, stress and worry rolled off my back. Later that day, the thought again surfaced, “Be open to the creative alternative,” and I laughed and cried as I recognized the Creator’s touch.
This column may include both fiction and nonfiction, and views expressed do not necessarily represent those of The SUN. Submissions can be sent to editor@pagosasun.com.
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