Morning brightens the outlook

It was a newly-built house with a terrific sun room/family room, but narrow and difficult to arrange furniture. Roger and I put kindergarten Nicholas and second grade Elise to bed and pondered rearranging the family room. After staring all the way around for a long time and standing in different locations, we pushed and pulled until we had the furniture placed in a way that would work for our active and busy family.

Nick sleepily came down the stairs the next morning in his jammies, climbed over the couch placed in what was once a walkway and muttered something about preferring Fruit Loops over a scrambled egg. Elise followed down the stairs only after she was completely ready for school with her back pack in order. Just before the step into the sunken room, she stopped in her tracks and insisted on knowing just what happened in the house last night.

After demanding a full explanation, Elise sat on the floor and let us know in no uncertain terms that now would be a good time to get the place back into order and stop the nonsense of changing things that just should not be changed.

Change. If there ever were a four-letter word that takes six to spell out – it would be change. I hate it and raised a daughter to do the same. But change keeps coming like a buck snorting and pawing in the snow ready to charge. We, as people of resilience have to grasp it by the antlers and wrestle it to the ground before it gets us down.

Elise and I both still struggle with change, yet it keeps charging at us, and most of the time, we are able to either embrace it or just beat the tar out of it before it gets us first. Elise grew up still resisting change, and always rolling with it in the end, but the furniture issue rears its ugly head every once in a while.

With a heart for adventure, she went to college a thousand miles from home where she met the love of her life. After she spent three months volunteering in Africa, the two travelled to St. Louis where she taught seventh grade and he attended graduate school. With a diploma under Scott’s belt, their adventure escalated by moving to Boston where Scott accepted a research position and Elise took her turn at graduate school. And that is where the story continues….

On a hot and balmy Saturday night last July, after two days of traveling with a U-Haul trailer, a dog and most of their Earthly goods, Elise and Scott arrived at their dream apartment. The night was dark, except the bright city light that shined in the apartment. They knew they were close to the train because their windows rattled as it clanked along. Their beds and furniture would not arrive for a couple days, and in a world defined by order, Elise looked around at a dirty, yucky place that barely resembled the realtor’s advertisement. She called me and cried. Through exhausted sobs, she said the kitchen was gross and the bathroom made her gag. Their things would surely not fit and the train drove them crazy.

Things are always better in the morning, I advised. Sleep, then dive in and deal with it. They unpacked cleaning supplies before toiletries. I worried all day Sunday, not wanting to call before they powered through the distress. About 4 p.m., I was relieved and anxious to see her name pop up on my phone. Oh, Mom, she announced. The bathroom is so cute. I love it.

This change-resistant, yet resilient hero of mine plowed through one room at a time and chose the smallest to begin. With a bucket of elbow grease, she scrubbed one room while Scott scrubbed another. Then, they rewarded themselves with a trip to Target for the finishing touches that make it feel like home.

We visited the apartment last fall and it is just as sweet as they describe. Very close to Boston College campus and near a train stop, the building is about 90 or so years old with high ceilings, window transoms and tall old-fashioned wood trim to give it character. They love it and the real thing looks much better than the realtor’s ad. Incidentally, the train that gave them fits the first night only uses that route on occasion – barely noticeable.

When we hit those lows and the outlook seems so bleak, morning sunshine can make the whole room look different. Change frightens and rattles us like the train in the night; it only beats us if we allow it.

That is assuming your parents don’t change the furniture while you sleep.