When we built our house in Officer, a big part of me expected to live there forever. We designed everything with care, delighting in each part of the process and crafting a life there which teemed with significance.
Sure, there’s also the reality that I hardly ever deliberately set out to encounter change. If things are going well, why bother to alter them? I bury myself in routines and tend to dig in my heels when transition looms.
Being married to Dave, however, has challenged all of that. At his heart, he is a visionary – a man with grand dreams and virtuous ideals. He pictures life as it could be, and isn’t afraid to move or shake things up in order to get there.
We’ve lived in a myriad of places, from a tiny room on campus in Lilydale, a split house we shared with a middle-aged man in Emerald, with my parents in Wantirna South, a brand new unit in Narre Warren, to a share house with another family in Berwick.
The Officer house was our first real home. We designed it, dreamed about it, and then moved in when Hudson was almost one year old. Our family grew up there – hosting countless parties and events, celebrating many milestones (first steps, first lost teeth, the grand entrance of two of our children). It was the backdrop upon which we weathered storms, addiction, sickness, injuries and death and the stage for many meaningful moments with friends and family. We made great connections with neighbours (I’m really going to miss the intoxicating smell of that Afghani chicken and rice dish that our next door neighbour regularly brought over for us) and established a rich life in Orchid Street. Even now, the thought of the swirl of memories provokes undeniable emotion in me.
When we heard the news that we had been successful in selling the place, I immediately burst into tears. It was a bittersweet moment – gratitude that we had managed to sell the house so quickly for a great price, but a depth of sorrow that the walls in which we had witnessed so much would now no longer be ours.
The experience of buying our new house in Berwick was quite serendipitous. With a two hour round trip in the afternoons to pick up the kids from school and a 40 minute commute for Dave, we knew that we needed to move closer, but weren’t quite sure as to where. The hills – with all of the fire dangers, storm-risks and the reality of the upkeep of a tree-filled property – filled us with unease despite the beauty of the surrounds. Dave regularly checked the market and kept up to date with what was on offer in the suburbs at the foot of the hills. But each house he showed me provoked the same reaction: no. They were too old, too soulless, too big, too bland. Too expensive, too weathered, too small, too grand.
One Friday afternoon in November, after Dave had been meeting with a group of pastors, he expressed to me a vision for a micro-church in Berwick. It would be the perfect place, he thought, to create a space for people to come and do life together. On a whim, he began checking the real estate website again, and a property in Berwick popped up. I was in conversation with Hudson at the time, but as he passed me the phone and I scrolled through the images of the house, I remember a sense of utter peace and a spark of excitement. ‘Yes’, I said immediately, without qualification. ‘This is the one.’
We joined a teeming group of people for the inspection the next day, and discovered offers had already been placed. The kids skipped about inside as if they already owned the place and we walked around considerably impressed. The house was smaller than we expected, but the outdoor area had been meticulously landscaped to resemble a Balinese escape. There was a pool and a spa, a covered seated area and built in fire-pit, a patio from which to enjoy the oasis-style views and decking everywhere.
With much prayer and hope, we submitted our offer on the Sunday, and discovered the very next day that we had been successful! It was an emotional moment for the whole family, as the agent announced the news over speakerphone, and I found myself tearing up in happiness. We were going to be moving house!
The next few months were a whirl of getting the Officer house ready for sale – with repairs and repainting, a crash course in styling and many trips to Savers and Ikea. Somehow it felt as if we would never quite be finished in this project to beautify the house. But, in early January, the photos were taken and the place was opened for inspection, and within a week, it had sold! There was a dicey moment when we realised that our move out and move in dates wouldn’t reconcile, but the new owners were gracious in allowing us to stay on for six weeks after the sale so that we weren’t homeless!
On the 24th of May, we got the keys and began the exhausting process of moving house. The front stairs became my new workout zone as Harvey and I lugged up bag after bag, box after box. We christened the new pool at the first opportunity, resulting in a hilarious video of Dave squealing at the chill of the water, and have been enjoying the decadence of the spa ever since. Mum helped me navigate the tricky dimensions of the pantry, which was a good half of the size of my old one, and gave sage styling and storage advice along the way.
The very next day after the big move, lockdown hit and the kids were home in all the chaos and craziness. Learning from home took a little bit of a hit as I was single-minded in my mission to unpack all the boxes and make the place feel more like our own. We discovered all of the hidden realities that a building inspection can’t tell you, like the fact that the heating needed replacing and that there were rats nests in the vents, an oven that hardly worked, a leaking kitchen tap and that both showers needed resealing and regrouting. A big redback spider was there to welcome us, which we discovered mere inches from Ivy’s dangling legs at the servery outside. Then we found termites chewing through the teak table that we had bought from the previous owners and are currently in the process of getting that situation addressed.
Yet, despite all that, we have found a sense of peace and relaxation here that we hadn’t known before. The warren-like design of the place forces us to slow down and the access to the beautiful outdoor space is instantly calming. We live differently here – more on ‘Newrybar time’ (see my last post) – and I love it. Lockdown meant that our new neighbours were the only people we were allowed to see for the first two weeks and we enjoyed getting to know everyone in the street. The kids quickly made friends around the shared basketball ring and we’ve invested in walkie talkies so that the older boys can go play at the nearby creek and park without us.
Almost a month in now and it feels like home. I will always treasure the experience we had at Orchid Street, but I’m excited to see what new memories and moments we will share here. I’ve been re-reading my favourite book that sparked the idea of the Enchanted Table and I can’t wait to host an epic dinner party soon!
May these walls be a blessing to all who enter, an oasis of peace for the troubled souls.
May we be open and receptive, hospitable and inviting.
May this place be a haven for meaningful connections and lifelong friendships.
And may the brilliant love of God be felt by every single person who walks through our doors.
