Our House’s Last Hurrah.

I don’t have pictures of this event, as I felt it would be a little invasive to use the people involved as part of a public post, but this is a picture of our house. Let me tell you what went on here yesterday, because it was a very fitting final occasion. With a closing date looming just three weeks away, I don’t think we’ll be hosting any more parties here. (We hope to have our first party at the new place on Memorial Day.)

So . . . I’ll try to keep the background story as short as possible, but it’s quite remarkable and deserves some space.

Last year Jim went on our church’s annual youth group trip to Emmanuel Mission at the Navajo reservation at Four Corners. In the midst of working on projects he got acquainted with a woman who works at the school. Fast forward to this fall: We got a call from her. She was desperate to find a place for her niece, niece’s husband, and their two-year-old son to stay. The family had been living at the Ronald MacDonald House while the boy was being treated for a brain tumor, but now the RMH was telling them that they had to leave—within two days. Little Kaleo’s active treatment was now over, but he still needed frequent checkups, so the parents didn’t think they could go back to Arizona. Besides, the father was in welding school and the mother had a job as a PA. They were working hard to get their lives going and have enough money to rent an apartment. Now this. (The story of the little boy going into convulsions and being airlifted from Farmington NM to the Denver Children’s Hospital, with the mom in the helicopter and the dad racing along on the road below and ending up in Denver at about 2:00 AM with no real idea where he was supposed to go, is quite something.) I have no idea why they were told they had to leave on such short notice or what they would have done without the efforts of the aunt. But sure, we said, they can come stay with us. We finished our basement so that we could do this very thing.

So they stayed with us for several months. Honestly, I have never seen people with such perseverance! They moved out and into their own place early this year. And on Saturday a big combo celebration was planned: the father was getting his certificate in welding and Kaleo was now three. Relatives were coming in from all over, and a party at a park near their apartment was planned. Only one problem: it snowed on Friday night and into Saturday. Unless they wanted to try to jam 25 or so people into a small one-bedroom apartment, it wasn’t clear how the party was going to take place. The aunt was staying overnight with us, and she shared her concerns with Jim. “No problem,” he said. “They can just have the party here.” And so they did. They brought decorations, and presents, and food . . . lots of food. They grilled a bunch of stuff out on the deck, in the snow, on our grill. (The late-lamented park had grills, which they had planned to use.) They made Navajo fry bread. Some of the kids went out and played in the copious snow in the back yard. There was talking and laughter and much appreciation. Hey, we didn’t do much of anything! And when I went into the kitchen after they had all left it was so immaculate that it was hard to believe that that many people had been fed.

So we kept saying in response to their thanks, “This was a great way to end our time in this house!” And indeed it was. What a happy memory! And all because my husband said, “Just have the party here!” (Now, if I’d had to actually, like, do any work, it might have been a different story. But I didn’t do anything except to make sure the kitchen was cleaned up before they came.) It was a totally unexpected blessing.

Have you ever had the experience of being presented with such an opportunity? Were you willing to say “yes”?