My things about me

Have you ever seen The Quiet Man with John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara? It's about Sean Thornton (Wayne), an American boxer who returns to his Irish birthplace seeking a quiet, peaceful life. He soon falls in love with the beautiful, tempestuous Mary Kate (O'Hara). She is equally taken with him, but won't marry without the consent of her stubborn, blustering brother who disapproves the match. With the help of a well-intentioned scheme arranged by their friends, Mary Kate gets her brother's permission and Sean and she wed. However, the relationships spoils soon after when her brother refuses to pay the rightful dowry comprised of Mary Kate's personal belongings and savings. Sean doesn't care, but Mary Kate is outraged and wants Sean to have it out with her brother.


There is this particular scene where Mary Kate is explaining to Sean that her dowry is important because she wants "her things about her." I've had that same feeling over the last year more times than I care to admit. I'm actually a bit embarrassed about it because my things are just that. Things. But there is something about having all your belongings in storage for an extended period of time that makes you feel so incredibly unsettled. And its been an emotion of mine that's been hard to shake for a while now.

In case you didn't know, last January I moved out of my rental. I boxed and stored all my stuff at Jenni's house and lived at Paula's* while I waited to close on the purchase of a town home. I was so excited; I had already started decorating the place in my head. :) But devastating uncertainty and heartbreak unexpectedly shattered the world of my sister and her three boys and I ended up backing out of the purchase a day before the scheduled closing. I wanted to remain in a position to help in case some of their needs landed in the realm of the financial. So I found a month-to-month studio lease not far from work, helped whenever and however I could, and waited until long-term needs could be more clearly determined. Today I moved out of the studio and into my sister's house. And I'm happy to be here.


Looking back, the decision not to buy was a no-brainer. I'd do it again. And again. And again. I haven't regretted it for even a moment. If there is one thing I've learned over the last year, it's that doing the right thing is ALWAYS the right thing to do, even if on the surface it appears to be hard or uncomfortable or inconvenient or whatever. Unimaginable blessings come from making right choices. And as I lay here on my bed in Jenni's basement and stare up at the insulation in the unfinished ceiling above me, I still don't regret the decision. In fact, I can't help but feel that I've gotten the better end of the deal.

You see, there are special opportunities that come from being single. I have the option of dedicating more time and more energy and more everything to my sister and my nephews. And my relationship with them has changed over the last few months, particularly with the boys. They trust me; they know they are safe with me; they know that in no way, shape, or form will I ever walk away from them. I see it in their eyes. I feel it in their hugs. I hear it in the quiet and simple moments I now have the opportunity to share with them. And I'm realizing that trust is a quality not to be taken for granted. It has to be earned and it's a long way back when it is broken. And I've learned a great deal about strength and patience and love and faith as I've watched Jenni successfully wade through an incredibly difficult trial caused by the selfish choices of another.

So ya, literally, I've now got "my things about me". Perhaps not in the way I originally envisioned but it's all here nevertheless. And I'm okay with it. Even grateful. Because I feel the peace that comes from knowing what's really important.

Here's hoping that the boys don't wake me up too early in the morning. :)

*Paula, I will never be able to thank you enough for letting me crash at your place longer than originally thought. And for allowing me to curl up on your couch as I cried my way through some substantial heartbreaks. You are a good friend.