Have you ever prayed for months, and even years for something, and then when it finally happens you are a bundle of mixed emotions? That is me today. For it is the day I’ve been hoping and praying for—the sale of our family home at 1011 Persimmon Street.

We moved into 1011 in the charming town of Celebration, Florida at the prime of our childrearing years in 2002. Our youngest was in first grade and our oldest was in ninth grade. My mother had passed away the previous year, and so my father helped us with a generous down payment on our two story Victorian home that included a lovely apartment for him above the three-car garage. I remember picking out the terra cotta tile so that our dog Houston’s golden fur wouldn’t show as much! We added French doors to the living room for the baby grand piano that would occupy it, in case someone wanted a quieter music session. Our daughter’s room had its own little “en-suite” bathroom so she didn’t have to share one with her brothers. We got a “Go Big Red” NEV (Neighborhood Electronic Vehicle) to get around town in and plugged it in every night to charge. The neighborhood pool and park were across the street, and Disney World was a quick ten minute drive down World Drive. We literally had the perfect house, in a perfect little town lovingly referred to by locals as “the bubble”.

Today as I stopped by the house one last time on the way to our closing, the memories flooded in as I walked through the empty rooms. I could hear Mike on the piano as I walked by the living room. I could see the furniture being pushed back against the walls in the great room as Spencer’s band played for their “Sunship” fans. Memoires of Cameron’s overnight “Halo” birthday parties filled my mind. We celebrated Drew’s high school graduation with a party at this house with so many theatre friends and teachers. As I walked down the stairs for the last time today, I remembered the moments of Ali coming down the stairs in her prom dress as we waited at the bottom to “Ooo and Ah”. We raised children in this home for 13 years. All of our children launched into college from this home. I remember walking back in and sitting at the kitchen table with my husband each time we had dropped one off for their freshman year, and feeling the loss of their presence. I knew our world would be rattled when our youngest left in the fall of 2014 for college, I just didn’t know how much.

We first put the house on the market in the spring of 2015. Downsizing made total sense, but sadly our marriage was unraveling at the same time. I don’t want to dwell on why our house took over two years to sell. It was complicated, messy, and stressful. Hindsight I would have made some different choices. But I’ve extended grace to myself, knowing that I did the best I could with the difficult situation I was in.

My children and friends have stood with me, interceding for this house to sell. My friends have shown up to pack, clean, and pray through this house. Earlier this fall my daughter shared that she had seen a vision during worship, of a new family in our home celebrating the holidays around a table. She told me the house would be sold by December. A month later she texted me after church on a Sunday, asking if the house was back on the market. (It had been off the market for a long stretch, and I was finally getting it resituated to go back on the market.) I told her it would be by mid-week. She replied, “Good, because God asked me if I was ready to let go. He told me we will have a contract this week.” The house went on the market that Tuesday afternoon, and within 24 hours we had a full price offer. Five weeks later we are done. The keys have been handed over. God came through. Not in my timing by any means, but He came through.

I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why it took so long to sell this house. I have many theories. Mike needed a roof over his head during the time he lived there after the divorce. I needed to have time to “reclaim” the house once he moved away, and heal from the some of the hurt owning the house the past two years had caused me. Lessons needed to be learned about persevering, and leaning on others for help. For a person that prides herself in “getting the job done”, it’s been an extremely humbling experience.

I wrote the new owners a letter this morning. I told them how much love had filled 1011 and I wished the same for them. I cried a lot today, with my husband of 30 years as we said good bye after settling on our final asset, with my daughter as we processed our bundle of emotions, and again when I crawled home and laid down for a nap. I woke up with sweet texts and phone calls of encouragement from friends and family that have stood with me during this long journey. Tonight I’m taking my son Spencer who is in town out to dinner to celebrate. And I think tonight I will sleep very well.

A dear friend shared this quote today with me from Shauna Niequist’s book—Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way:

“There are times when the actual experience of leaving something makes you wish desperately that you could stay, and then there are times when the leaving reminds you a hundred times over why exactly you had to leave in the first place.”

1011 Persimmon Street—I leave you with gratitude for sheltering my family so very well, but it is time to say good bye…