I moved into this yellow house 5 months after my husband left. I was still married, but the hope of reconciliation was waning. He was in Boston, I was in Denton. We had had one email exchange and a random “Merry Christmas” text when I moved to Denton. I had been living at my parents, making less than stellar money working at a non-profit, and completely in limbo regarding what to do next. It’s hard to plan for your future when you aren’t sure if you’re still married.
My sister and her husband approached me about moving in February. They were moving because their current living situation wasn’t going to be around much longer. They knew they could afford a larger place if I was with them. They knew I would be willing to help with the boys. They knew I needed to move but I was at a loss. They knew I needed a place to heal.
I don’t think they knew that the house we would all move into would be that place. I didn’t.
In the months before I moved in with Kyle and Joey, the Lord had begun moving in my relationship with my sister. We always liked each other, but we were never really “friends”. In God’s divine wisdom, the weekend that my ex-husband left, my mom happened to be out of town. She is the one who I would always run to in the past, but I couldn’t this time. She was at a retreat. She couldn’t even answer her phone. I left a message consisting of me in complete hysterics as I drove home to try and salvage my marriage.
My sister was home. And when I called her the next day, when I knew for sure he was gone, she became a safe place to me. I left my counselor’s office, having just heard my husband tell me over the phone that he was moving to Boston for sure. He would not reconsider like I had asked him to, and I drove in tears to Denton. I pulled up to their apartment, went inside, and was hugged and held and loved. And I knew at that moment that even if my mom couldn’t hug me, sisters will and can.
I moved in with them in March, I went to Boston in May to find my husband, he filed for divorce in June, and it was final in September. And during that time, every night I went home to the same little yellow house, with my huge garage turned bedroom, and God slowly put my heart back together. That house was full of laughter, dance parties, giggles, tickles, and hope. That home, the people there, they calmed my anxious soul, they reminded me that I am worth something. I am not discarded trash.
Those 18+ months were some of my favorite in my life, and when I moved out in October, it was really sad. It was such a bittersweet day for me. I was leaving a home where the pieces of my heart had been put together, I was living on my own ( i mean, I have a roommate, but we’re not related, so it’s different). My belongings were unpacked with a heart full of pain and abandon, and I packed them up with a heart full of hope and joy.
I miss that little yellow house. I miss my sister. I miss Joey. I miss hearing “BYE!!!!!!!” coming from those two little boogers each morning as I drove to work. I miss it. I do.
I will never forget what God did in that house. He healed me. He restored my hope. He held me, and placed my life back together in a way that was unpredictable. That house saw my marriage end, my tears as I recovered, and my heart fill with joy with new love.
God is so unpredictable. I never saw any of this coming, and it was painful, but I wouldn’t trade what He did in that non-air conditioned room for anything.