The fixer-upper type shows make it look so enjoyable,
The sledgehammer plunges through the drywall,
The kitchen counters are torn out,
The wires and studs are exposed,
The endless possibilities of the undone . . . .
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
This will disappoint some of you, but Chip and Jo will never touch my walls.
They live 2-3 miles away from me, but even if they chose me for their show, I would say no.
I am tired of remodeling.
Honestly, my current house project is my second true literal remodeling.
Items from one room fill the spaces in four rooms.
Then, items from that one room are put in place while another room is emptied out.
The crew of guys work in a coordinated dance, in synchronized movements,
Ripping the paneling from the glue,
Gathering and tossing the insulation fragile from the years,
Tugging the carpet from its stapled moorings,
Snaking electrical wire between studs.
Drywall dust coats all.
White dogprints on a red rug are a testament of the sweat and effort in the next room.
Remodeling exposes secrets—-
Holes in the window sealing,
Fire hazards,
An old wooden door secreted behind drywall and brick
(Hey, Poe, was my room your inspiration for “The Cask of Amontillado”?),
Broken tiles, remnants of termite tunnels, and a
Brick wall marred with S’s drawn in glue.
Electrical nightmares.
Chaos.
Despite this, as each day proceeds,
Little tendrils of light and new life arise,
Clean and white, transitions made smooth,
Gaps closed up, keeping out the bugs that contaminate,
Shiny plugs appear where extension cords once crept,
Dangers lessened,
Clean, whole, healed.
A new perspective, a new plan, a new map . . . .
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I am tired of remodeling.
But actually it is not the literal remodeling that has created this fatigue.
Literal remodeling is much quicker and less exhausting in comparison.
I am tired of figurative remodeling, the type that has exhausted me for the past 20 years,
The type that has happened again and again and again.
Just when I had things all put back in place, the dust swept, and the “ahh” released from my lips,
A marriage was ripped apart, a reputation was sullied, a parent died, a job was lost, a child made choices, a life/death health scare happened, a spouse died,
And everything had to be remodeled again. And again. And again.
I am sick of life’s sledgehammers that have crashed through established routines,
That have crashed through assumptions and anchored beliefs,
Suddenly, without warning,
The surface of life was torn from its moorings,
The sources of energy ripped out,
The damage,
The footprint signs of a former life,
The chaos.
Those previously-held established routines and assumptions were comfortable, even if not safe.
They provided simplicity of faith—of God, of others, of family, of self.
Each time my life has undergone remodeling,
My reserve, my outward organized persona has been torn and removed.
What may have been a flawed status quo is now smashed and stripped,
The reality beneath is revealed for all and is judged.
The flaws, the possible danger potential, the gaps
Are there for all to see.
The certainties of life are ripped away,
And all that is left are studs and worn-out wires.
It takes time to rebuild.
It takes time to see potential in the wreckage.
The reality of the damage is all too real.
Just because sledgehammers tore out a hole in one section
does not mean the rest is not affected in some way.
Dust covers all.
Furniture from one is crammed into others.
The sledgehammers left nothing untouched.
Decisions must be made.
Changes are a must.
Every item is re-examined before it is replaced.
When life changes in a moment’s time,
Despite the remains of dust, ashes, and fragments,
I have to believe that there is hope.
No timeline completion yet, but it is coming.
This does not mean that the tears do not wet my pillows at night.
It does not mean that sobs do not escape my lips when a song or a TV show or a restaurant or an item at home brings back memories.
Desperation still suddenly grabs me and isolates me.
However, with time, and a whole lot of effort,
I believe (and hope)
I can pull out my hammers and screwdrivers,
Pile up all my construction materials,
And board by board, brush stroke by brush stroke,
The source of energy can be restored,
The broken holes and gaps can be filled,
The dust of my former life can be swept up and rubbed off,
And all that will remain is my new remodeled life.
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