429 Goss Lane, August 1982. We walked through the house one last time, the boys and I. (I remembered moving in, walking the five blocks with most of our things in hand, believing here in this quiet place things would be better. But it wasn't. Everything ended...) We checked the rooms, the closets; nothing was left behind. I shut the door. Closed it to a marriage, hopes, dreams and failures. What could God do with the pieces?
429 Goss Lane, July 1996. We walked through the house one last time before signing the papers. Was it possible we were buying this broken old house? Dormant and damaged the walls grew mold, the creaking floors sagged and I looked at blue sky through a bedroom ceiling. It certainly was a symbol of pain and shattered dreams. What would God do with the pieces?
He did what He does best, renovated. Renovated walls, timbers, windows and lives. He gave “beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness...that He might be glorified.” (Isa 61:3) I left a desolate woman, with two small boys, and returned full with my husband, our two teenaged sons, and the little ones born to us. The latter end has indeed been better.
That house will always be the place I think about when someone says home.
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