Yesterday David and I went back to the old house to gather up a few more things. We had the movers take the heavy items and intended on going back to bring over the miscellaneous things as we went through them. The old house isn't for sale until we freshen it up. David hired a fellow to fix a few things in the house--a weak area where rain had gotten in, stray shingles, and to replace a couple doors that had been reglued so many times (lots of activity in our 11 person household) that they needed just to be gone. While they were replacing doors David asked if they would take off the door to our clothes closet in our master bedroom so we could take it with us. It was in perfect condition, but we had grown to love it.
Love a closet door? Yup. We were attached to that thing. It was not made of particularly good wood. It was not particularly beautiful to look at. It did not have a special physical feature that would make it difficult to replace. But it was priceless to us and our family. You see, when we first moved into the house, 13 years ago, David started charting the children's heights on that closet door. Every few months they would stand inside the open door while David recorded, with a plain little line, name and date, the growth. It was fun to see that Rachel was taller than Melissa at the same age, and that Caroline surpassed them both. "Measure me!" the little ones would urge while the 7 year old was standing straight, heels to the wall, while Daddy measured, and Daddy would patiently repeat the procedure many many times.
David had instructed the individual we hired to remove the door from its hinges and set it aside so we could bring it with us. The man assured David he would do so. We saw him mark an *X* on it, indicating preservation. However, yesterday when David and I drove up we saw, that door, that precious, priceless door sawed up and in the dumpster we had put temporarily on the driveway. It had been carelessly removed and destroyed. We both felt devastated. David doesn't get angry very often. He's a loosy-goosy, let-it-slide kind of guy. But he yelled (more like moaned) "The door! The door! Look what they did to our door!!" My heart just sunk. To make it worse, the dumster lid had been left open by the workers, and recent rain smeared the carefully written names and dates. Our connection to our children's youth and growth, the piece of sentimentality that we treasure was gone.
We quickly started rummaging through the dumpster, searching for the pieces. What a sight we must have been. We retrieved 3 pieces, but could not find the rest. It was dark and we decided to come back the next day.
Take my china! Steal my money, but give me back that door!! I internally screamed.
Intellectually I know I am overreacting. I have my children with me. They are all alive and healthy. God has blessed our family immeasurably. But in my gut, deep inside, I really really want that door, and I'm having trouble forgiving the careless worker who discarded it. The man we hired apologized. He didn't know which of the workers he hired did it. He admitted he was in the wrong. I don't care. I just want my door.
Should we fire the worker? Should we ask that he dig through and retrieve the pieces and glue them back together? Should we just let it go? ("Turn the other cheek" I hear, hauntingly) Is this God's way of telling me to "let go"? Is He inviting me to lean on Him more, to give up not just *stuff*, but sentimental things as well?
I am used to wrapping things up neatly in my mind, to end a column, a written piece, an entry in a blog. But this is not wrapped up in my mind. I'm struggling, even now, to get past the door.
Oh Theresa, my heart (and stomach) ache for you. I would definately try to find the rest of the door & use those measurements to start a new door. I am so sorry...
Posted by: Jenny | January 15, 2007 at 11:13 AM
I'm so sorry for you Theresa. We have a wall in our kitchen that I treasure for the same reason. I guess since you marked your children's heights on the door, it was possible to "take it with you," unlike my wall. But we are tested in all sorts of ways and this is just one of the many, many tests in your life. Not that God wanted this to happen, but we have to take what we are dealt.
So sorry--I think it might be worth a good cry!
Barbara
Posted by: Barbara | January 16, 2007 at 05:29 AM
I completely understand your anger/sadness/frustration. I would be devastated too.
In your penultimate paragraph you ask a series of questions. I don't know if you meant them rhetorically or not but here are my answers: NO. NO. YES. YES. YES.
God whispers in our joys and shouts in our pain.
Posted by: BK | January 16, 2007 at 08:46 AM