House(s) of Healing

It was time for my writing group’s annual retreat. We had booked a house where we’d stayed three years ago. But a pool construction project had delays, and the crew would be working during a portion of our stay. Jackhammers and writing don’t mix well, and the home owner provided an alternative. For the two women who had settled in a couple days early, the move meant some quick packing and reorganization.

I liked the new house. We all did. But I had been looking forward to the other house. It was a healing place for me several years earlier as I settled in to finalize Fractured Into Wholeness. It was the first retreat I’d attended since I returned from one two years earlier to the shocking announcement my ex wanted out of a 25+ year marriage. It was good to be together again with a group of women who helped me process and heal. They had adjusted the schedule to accommodate my available time off.

That same year and house was eventful for other reasons. Tornado warnings drove us into the basement theatre room—after we maneuvered all five cars into a 2.5 car garage. We adjusted then, and we adjusted to other things this year.

I healed several years ago, and I healed this year, too. I wrote several years ago, and I wrote this year, too. I paused and recharged several years ago, and I paused and recharged this year, too. Through adjustments, we can appreciate the common threads over time as we simultaneously welcome the changes and opportunities.

God is trustworthy.

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