Building Up and Taking Down

The foundation has been poured. Smooth walls shine silver in the moonlight. My children are reading to each other aloud in their bedroom, and Seda sleeps behind me on the futon here in our living room. She has put in a full day.

The garage is being demolished. Trinidad learned how to pry siding from the exterior with a wrecking bar, pulling every nail. He marveled at the differences between our learning curves, practiced acceptance and perspective, and appreciated the notion of modest goals for beginners. I, myself, considered it my only goal to step through the threshold of the kitchen and into the backyard, a flat bar in my hand. Enough to conquer this insidious fear of building tools. Enough to begin work on the unfamiliar. I was not disappointed.

The last ten days have passed not quickly, but compactly. Each has been marked with the milestones of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Our food has given me a road map, a way of traversing this project within my comfort zone. It has been good. Stew, grilled steaks, tamale pie, garden salads, strawberry milkshakes, tuna sandwiches... Every day we sweat the work of transition, of growing, and every day we celebrate around a table together, many helpings and many hands.

The blessings are spectacular. We have begun a new ritual at the start of our meal. We hold hands and someone says a word (love, community, gratitude, friends, etc.) that the rest of us take it in and then repeat, holding the living energy of that idea. The shared expression has proven to be a touching, connecting, and significant way to begin a meal. Humor has not been avoided. One evening, Trinidad said with great reverence, "Crap." We all repeated it with equal reverence, then laughed. Afterwards, I embraced the notion more fully. Why not pay our respects to that which we find difficult? So much learned and gained in the face of it. Yes, m'Lord, I am grateful.

Everything continues to fall into place effortlessly. The washing machine pipe broke today after I finished washing just about everything we own. The neighborhood children are home and available to play. The weather is cool, dry and beautiful. The entire contents of our garage and laundry room (before the annual declutter) is somehow integrated into the rest of the house or our tiny storage unit. We break bread together as a family and even with friends nightly. Our house is in order and Seda in bed by 10 most nights. As I write, I notice that the boys are now quiet, having put themselves to bed. I can't imagine how it all happens this way. I just show up.

We learn and grow, every one of us, on the job. The children are thrilled to discover construction and demolition. Seda kneels beside them explaining softly the hows and whys of each step. I am in awe of her total trust in their efforts and exploration. Trinidad struck with his sledge so rhythmically while I cooked tonight that I found myself singing to it. Sam cleans up, screws on nuts and washers, and even wields the four pound sledge himself. They spend hours each day engaged in whatever aspects of the work Seda can set them to. And somehow, she finds work for them every time they ask.

Lord, love, universal harmony, I am so grateful to be a part of this weave, so grateful to be amongst such bright souls and tender hearts. Grateful to have the everyday work of loving and growing. Grateful to know this path, if only for a moment. Thank you.