Settle

The question posed to us most frequently—and obviously—these days is if we’re “all moved in,” are we “settled.”  I know it’s not meant to be a thought-provoking conversation starter, just more of a warm-up, a benign pleasantry.  But you know me, I’ve got to be honest.  And so I’m sort of at a loss as to what to say.

I mean, of course all our boxes have been shuttled from our newish old house to our new oldish house.  There are none in our friend’s trailer that’s still parked (lodged in snow is more apt) out front weeks later. Todd finally brought in the final bits from the car now that the trunk is no longer frozen shut.  We’ve been functioning, we’re getting into a routine.  But “moved in”?  “Settled”?  I might say something like,  “Pretty much.” Or maybe, “Mostly.”  But then sheepishly admit, “Not exactly.”

Because as we were setting up rooms beginning on December 15th, our sons were also tearing down trim.  And painting even through Christmas Eve.  Just as we finish up one room or project, we’re starting on another, necessitating shuffling boxes around, putting the unpacking of several on hold; they’ve become permanent fixtures in the middle of the hallway.

We’ve shared our bedrooms with our red air compressor, orange shop vac, and an assortment of hand and power tools for weeks now.  Decorations, puzzles, sleeping bags, and a million books are still packed in boxes we’ve peeked into but haven’t committed to unloading.

We’ve entertained a constant stream of traffic ever since we moved during that blessed blizzard. Around 40 people came that first night to help us move in on one of the snowiest weekends of our lives.  Our college son flew in the next night and more family flew in throughout the following week.  Where everyone should sleep, what beds they’d use, finding all the sheets and blankets, buying mattress covers and new pillows, freshening it all up, making it look like we didn’t just move in four days ago kept me from unpacking like I needed to.  Christmas dinners to orchestrate.  New Year’s Eve gathering to host.  Various groups just for fun.  All the fix-it people: cabinet guy, chimney sweep, plumber, internet guy, two different flooring people, the interior decorator friend.  The phone calls.  All sorts of package guys.  (Most amusing one yet was the package I found in between one of our six exterior doors and its screen just the other day, delivered way back at Christmastime.  I might not have found it till spring if I hadn’t been painting that door.)  Beyond that, every friend who’s come to play has a family who wants to see our fixer upper.  It’s rarely clean.  And why is my bed never made on those days?  And why is it always laundry day? We usually run into dog puddles.  I tell them to keep their shoes on; they’ll need protection.  But don’t worry, I console them; you can’t hurt this plastic laminate floor from 1984.

We switched all our insurance policies the day we closed; good grief.  Well shares, ditch rights, septic to call on.  Learning about reverse osmosis.  How much salt?  What light switches go to which lights?  Do the blinds even work?  Why is there so much wind coming through our windows?  Motion lights? What’s with this thermostat that looks like it came connected to the house back in 1984?  Why are there so many outlets up and down the walls?  And just two in the entire shop?  Old cable boxes and phone jacks.  Just so many nuances to a new old house.  A new discovery almost daily.

And I don’t know why, but I’m not motivated to clean it the way I was with our old house.  I think because there are so many on-going projects and materials in the way, so many daily dog accidents, dirt that was already here, windows that are broken, I just feel like it won’t look really clean no matter how much elbow grease I apply.  The showers are old and sort of corroded, layered with rust and permanent soap scum. I’m afraid to go too far into the cabinetry or to really dislodge the grime along the edges of the kitchen floor.  And I can’t keep up with the hair from three dogs or the mud from everyone who traipses through.

We added a new puppy January 2nd to the other two dogs and a cat.  We just set up 5 dozen chicken eggs on our kitchen table that will hatch in exactly 21 days.  Cows this Spring.

So are we “moved in”?  “Settled?”  Yes and no.  Yes, we’ve made the transition, just like when you have a baby or the kids go back to school or come home for the summer.   You let out the breath you were unconsciously holding, relieved that part’s over.  But now what?  And what does it really mean to feel settled?  Is it possible?

Again, I have to say yes and no.

It depends on whether we’re relying on circumstances to determine our state of mind or if we’re wiling to look beyond what’s happening to center ourselves.  If we’re basing our definition on life without change, we’ll never arrive at that settled state.  We’ll always feel like we’re in commotion.  But thankfully we can feel calm inside when everything around us dictates otherwise.

I was thinking of this as the snows finally gave way to warmer temps.  I think I heard the whole state exhale; finally, we all said in unison.  Our thoughts turned to hopes of an early spring, we disregarded the whole groundhog nonsense, we knew we were in the midst of a warming trend and felt comfortable that we’d made it through another long winter.  But really, we’re in the first week of February.  In Montana.  There’s no way we were home free yet.  And that’s just how it unfolded.  Just the other day I got into my car at -8 degrees; my friend’s said -12, little matter, just frigid.  I nearly crashed head-on with a truck driving through iced-up windshield down the middle of a snow-filled narrow road with ambiguous boundaries.  I knew then to keep my gloves handy, it wasn’t time to wash the winter gear and store it all in the totes.  I knew better than to get comfy.

And yet, I felt somewhat peaceful.  I’d been down this road before.  About 100 times since we moved.  I know the slippery parts; I know how far to start slowing before our driveway and the intersection.  I hate that I can’t just coast, but I know I can do this.  For as long as winter decides to hang around.  I can’t hibernate and wait till the chill passes.  I can’t curse the snow and let the icy storms determine my cheerfulness.  No, I just pack on the layers and lace up my boots.  And let the van warm for a good twenty minutes before heading out.

I guess the lesson is this. Life can be a mess.  One after another.  And if we’re waiting for the dust to settle before we deem ourselves finally there, I’m afraid we’re going to be in a constant state of upset.  Because you all know how it goes.  The minute you think you’ve got a handle on a particular phase, whether it’s the newborn stage or the teenage stage, something comes along to sort of shake things up:  she starts teething or gets an ear infection that changes the sleeping arrangements.  He gets his license or a new job, and that gives everyone a little freedom but a little more to worry about.  Or you move or get a new assignment or you find out some bad news about a family member that brings on tears whenever you think about it.  In fact, I can almost predict tomorrow’s storm by the sunshine I’m feeling today.  I’ve even started preparing myself for the next shake-up by noticing when I’m feeling a little too comfy.  That’s one reason that buying this house felt right.  I’d been feeling too easy about things. But then I was hit not only with a move in the middle of Christmas, but other personal issues that blindsided me at the same time.  If I was counting on the season to tick away like a normal joyous Christmas with my family, I was unquestionably robbed.  Thankfully, it’s up to us to determine what each season of our life will be.  Not that we get to pick the variables, but we do get to choose how we respond to them.  

Looking back, it’s obvious the times I’ve felt peace and the times I’ve felt out of control have had little to do with circumstances and everything to do with what I’m doing in my personal life that sort of buffers the sting of whatever I’m facing.  I know this was huge as we were moving and dealing with so many things at once.  I knew we couldn’t have the traditional Christmas season like we all look forward to because so much of our normal Christmas stuff was packed. So we made it a high priority to regularly talk of Christ and gather as a family and read about Him even if it was short or late at night.  We also continued reading about Him on our own and I inched my way through a book about the atonement most days, just a short chapter that left me something to ponder in the middle of packing and cleaning and painting.  I realized how powerful and valuable those small acts became. “As you dedicate time every day, personally and with your family, to the study of God’s word, peace will prevail in your life.  That peace won’t come from the outside world.  It will come from within your home, from within your family, from within your own heart.  It will be a gift of the Spirit.  It will radiate out from you to influence others in the world around you.  You will be doing something very significant to add to the cumulative peace in the world” (Elder Scott).

I realize the blessing those words have been for me in my life.  Sometimes I feel upset inside even when the details of my life should point to tranquility.  I’ve found that strange, and I remember a woman confiding in me years ago that she had everything she ever wanted and still felt unsettled.  I just don’t believe we can count on outside factors to bring us peace.  In our case, the chaos of moving and having company didn’t settle down for quite awhile; we’re still in the middle of ripping out trim, painting, pulling out floors, puppy training, and hosting all sorts of groups of friends. In fact, the personal issues we worried about over Christmas are still with us, without resolution.  

And yet, I feel immense peace.  I felt teary recently when someone at church quoted President Hinckley, who reminded us, “It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is.  It all works out.  Don’t worry.  I say that to myself every morning.  It will all work out.  Put your trust in God and move forward with faith and confidence in the future.  The Lord will not forsake us.  He will not forsake us.”  Likewise I lean on these wise words, “Strength comes not from frantic activity but from being settled on a firm foundation of truth and light. It comes from placing our attention and efforts on…Jesus Christ. It comes from paying attention to the divine things that matter most" (President Uchdorf).

I guess that’s how I choose to look at and handle the unsolicited—yet anticipated—vicissitudes in life. I expect I’ll simply have to be more honest the next time someone asks me if I’m feeling settled.  Yes, I’ll say, I suppose I am.