Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: STIR (11/12/15)
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TITLE: Hope Stirs | Previous Challenge Entry
By Cindy White
11/19/15 -
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I wanted to be angry with Miles for all of this. Except it was my idea. Miles had every reason to be grumpy, but he never complained. Every morning he'd stop by the gym for a quick workout and a nice hot shower before work. I, on the other hand, would roll myself out of bed and squeeze my growing body into the tiny bathroom.
When the cottage had come on the market, I'd pleaded with Miles to buy it. “It's a mess, Tammy,” Miles said, “It might be too much work with a baby on the way.” It was such a charming house, and I was certain it wouldn't take too much effort. “It's mostly cosmetic,” I said, looking through my rose colored glasses, “It just needs paint, tile and some TLC.”
Love won out over common sense. So we left the apartment and settled into a borrowed trailer in the driveway. It was only for a couple months.
Soon our do-it-yourself project became the home improvement version of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. One repair led to another, and another, and so on. Permit delays, contractor schedules, and supply mishaps brought us to autumn with an ever-elusive move-in date.
“It's almost Thanksgiving,” I told him. “I'm done living in the trailer. I want to move into our home now.”
“I know, sweetie. So do I,” Miles said, “But it's not functional yet. There's no place to sleep or cook. And, well, the bathroom might be important.” Miles, always the practical one. “I've gotta go. Behave yourselves.” He kissed my belly.
I was two months from my due date. My energy level was down, but my motivation high. I snuggled back into bed to warm myself and mentally prepare for what the day held. “Father, give me the wisdom to resolve any issues that come my way today. Give me patience for dealing with difficult people and circumstances. And Please, help me endure this until completion. Thank you, Jesus. Amen.”
A spirit of hope stirred in me.
I waddled inside to assess the situation. The kitchen was an empty shell with holes in the floor and walls. Cabinets were still two weeks from completion. “God, let them be right this time.”
The bathrooms were ready for tile and fixtures, which were in a pile in the living room, waiting for the installers.
In the nursery, plastic covered the hole that was supposed to be a dual pane window. The walls were bare studs. Still, I could picture the sunny yellow walls, hand painted mural, and sweet crib in place. I wanted to cry. No time for that.
The master bedroom seemed on the small side when we first saw the house, but it felt huge after months of living in a trailer. There was just some clean up and finishing work to do.
My nesting instincts were in high gear and I was determined. Thanksgiving was next week, and I was going to be in my house if it meant throwing cheap rugs onto concrete floors. I moved construction debris out of my way. I found the paint I'd bought weeks ago, a beautiful warm taupe, and soon I had two walls done.
I twisted to my left and strained to reload my brush. My pant legs grew warm and damp. No! It was too soon!
“Tammy, are you in here?”
“Miles! Come here, quick!”
***
I spent that weekend in the hospital. The baby was fine but I would have to be careful. No more ladders or lifting.
On Sunday, to my surprise, I came home to a finished bedroom and bathroom. Miles had enlisted some buddies to help.
He drew me to the bed and wrapped his arms around my middle, supporting me against himself. He placed his hands on my belly and we giggled as the little one inside me stirred and shifted, creating moving lumps.
“We're home.” I whispered.
“I hope this is good enough for now,” Miles said.
Good enough was perfect to me.
Thanksgiving Day, I stood at my little camp stove, in my unfinished kitchen, and stirred gravy like nobody's business.
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