Metamorphosis

This time of year brings back many memories. Fall changes everything in the air; smells, textures, colors, it's all in the process of metamorphosis. This time of year, in 2004, I was in the middle of a divorce. I had made the decision to move out of my house (his house), and move into MY house. Seeing as I had a 4 year old, a 2 year old, and no job, this was going to be difficult to say the least. But I had decided to make it happen. So, I prayed, and then I prayed some more, and more. You get the idea. Finally one day I had some news that my aunt and uncle's rental mobile home was vacant and the rent was only $200 a month. It was a quick walk right through the woods to my parents home, and I knew my boys would love that! Excitedly, my dad and I went to check it out. It was hard to swallow. Holes in the wall (I could see the OUTSIDE from the inside), rats nests in the oven – it was falling apart. My dad looked at me, I looked at him. He said something like, “we can make it work.” I believed him – I always believe my daddy. So, the work began. I watched my dad constantly turn trash to treasure, he made something out of nothing over and over again. He used scraps and leftovers from other projects. We painted, hammered, patched and prayed. My mom cleaned and cleaned until the whole place reeked of the wonderfully sanitized smell of Clorox. The day came and 5 elders from the church in 3 pick-ups moved everything I owned all in one trip, and then unloaded it in my new home. It was home. The metamorphosis had begun. From wife to single mom, homeowner to renter, together to alone. What should have been a sad day, and I did shed a few tears, ended up being remarkable. I KNEW I could make it, I was independent, my boys were happy and I would be okay. To this day my boys still comment about how much they loved our little “trailer in the woods,” It was the happiest stop on earth. They often recount their wonderful memories of that home. I felt like it was a spot blessed from above. I discovered through this process that I thrive on independence. Being forced to make all the decisions all the time brought me “back to life,” and it was a good life. A family member told me, “It's so nice to have Christy back.” Perhaps we all need a "metamorphosis" in our lives, perhaps we all need something to bring us "back to life.”
Photos taken in October 2004 on the property where I was renting:

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