The Beauty of Old

My curtains came in yesterday. I didn't realize it until we pulled into the driveway after eating out with the gymnastics team at Papa's & Beer. But there they were in a small brown box, leaning against the garage door. Roy said, "What is that box?"

I peered out the window to read the large print on the box and finally, after squinting and cocking my head a bit because I am 47 and my eyesight isn't what it used to be without a whole lot of help, saw the letters K-O-H-L-S. "My curtains!"

And so, even though it was almost 8:00 and I had yet to step foot in the front door since leaving it at 8:45 that morning, I ripped open the box, pulled out the curtains, and started changing up my living room. Of course, the decorative rod hasn't arrived yet so...it was a bit of a waste as they are just going to have to come down again when the rods get in. But oh well...it was so much fun. I took down the old curtains, windexed the windows and surrounding woodwork (that was embarrassing), used a screw driver and took down all the blinds, vaccuumed, hung the new curtains, moved the furniture around, and then stood back and admired my work.

The entire time I was working, Jace was in his room playing. But about the time I finished, he came out to ask me a question. As his eyes realized that the living was room completely different, he stopped mid-sentence. "Whoa, Mom! It's a whole new house!" And then he plopped down on the couch and just looked around, in awe.

"Jace, you need to get ready for bed."

"I don't ever want to leave, Mom. I love new."

Of course, I love "new" too. I mean, what's not to love? New curtains. New cars. New homes. New clothes. New books to read. New big screen tvs. New shoes. New iPads. New furniture. I could go forever. "New" brings with it a whole element of excitement and anticipation and so many good things (especially when "new" is paid for).

But earlier yesterday, Tammy and I had lunch together at our new favorite hangout, Atlanta Bread, and we were discussing the beauty of "old". We've both moved enough in our lifetimes to recognize the reality that it takes a minimum of two years to adjust to a new place. When your home changes color, you are faced with new friends, a new doctor, a new hair stylist, a new church, a new address, a new grocery store, a new school for the kids, new everything.

And suddenly, the fascination with new flies right out the window. Every time I move I go through a period of anguish, missing the old. I second-guess our decision, longing for yesterday. But not Roy. He is straight ahead, plowing through, never looking back. I admire that.

Since we;ve moved here, we have struggled financially for the longest period of time in our married life than I can remember. It's been difficult having two kids in academy or college and one in elementary school and yet my salary is a pittance. When we took the job, it was with the understanding that something would work out for me soon though certainly no promises were made. But four years later, here we are: I am still part-time. And so, I asked Roy if he ever regretted moving here as if we had stayed in Missouri, we would be flying financially.

"I refuse to go there," he said. "It never crosses my mind. I just don't think that way." And it's true. For our 26 years of marriage, I have yet to hear him bemoan a major life decision we've made. And that's a good thing.

For two years, I struggled after we moved here. I missed so many things about Missouri and my life there. But now? I am content. I love North Carolina. I love my friends, my doctor, my dentist, my home. I love walking outside and gazing up at the mountains that display their majesty twelve months out of the year. I love the milder temperatures of summers and winters. I love the track that is less than a minute from my driveway. I love teaching sabbath school a few times each quarter--just enough to stay involved. I love playing on my iPad in the mancave while Roy watches tv. I love lunch dates with friends that were once "new" but have become "old".

I love new. It's fresh, exciting. But I thrive in old. Old brings comfort and security like a warm blanket on a winter's eve. Old gives you somewhere to hang your hat and kick up your feet.

Old is a beautiful thing.