Put-put-put

“Ka-POP!” I heard a while ago, as I will grilling some cheese sandwiches for our Sunday evening dinner. A grin spread across my face as I remembered that familiar evening sound here in the neighborhood. One evening after we first moved in, I heard a couple of loud pops that sort of sounded like a BB gun. I was pretty sure one of the neighborhood kids must be shooting squirrels. And then my husband mentioned it sounded like a small engine backfiring. Sure enough, here came the B’s, tootling up the hill on their golf cart.

For a day or two I couldn’t quite figure out their mission. They would go down the street in front of our house, up the trail on Mr. G’s property, and behind Mrs. C’s garden. It was this mysterious little trip that had me so amused, I really didn’t want to find out what it was really all about. I knew the mystique of it and the guessing game we played was far more interesting than reality would turn out to be, so I delighted in our not knowing. But as luck would have it, I happened to be standing on the front porch one evening while dinner simmered on the stove, when down they zoomed through the green grass in our side yard, across the last few feet of our driveway and back onto the street. I just took to laughing, and they glanced up and saw me up the hill on the big white porch waving at them.

Mr. B pulled the cart over and let Mrs. B out for a little jaunt up our sidewalk, holding Mrs. C’s mail. I chuckled while she told me how they bought the golf cart when their kids were younger, and now that they are gone, the golf cart needs regular use to keep it from going bad. So they just use it for their neighborhood errands. That fact alone is delightful enough–it tells of a Southern lady that takes such good care of her neighbors, she has errands to run from house to house.

After our little visit, I knew that Mrs. B was the mail lady when neighbors are gone, and that Ms. C composts grass clippings–she “saves everything”. Mrs. B let me know she would visit with Ms. C when next she saw her and would find out where she would like us to deposit our clippings for her compost pile. I was glad about that, since we had let the first round of clippings compost themselves in the B’s borrowed trashcans (the waste management company took forever getting our cans to us.) The smell was atrocious, and I was glad they had been away for a beach vacation during that little fiasco.

So now when I hear the put-put-put with an occasional “Ka-POP” of the golf cart, I look up through my kitchen window to see the B’s going out for their neighborhood stroll. I smile inside and out knowing that my neighbors are all in the good and loving care of Mrs. B.

These Are the People

…in the neighborhood, in the neighborhood, in the neigh-bor-hoo-ood. These are the people in the neighborhood. They’re the people that you meet when you’re walking down the street. They’re the people that you meet each daaaaaay……” Okay. Thank you to Sesame Street for that lovely little jingle that taught us so much. So can I just tell you how much I love my new neighborhood?

Perhaps one of the saddest things about leaving Altus was leaving my little corner of the world where I knew my neighbors, and they knew me, and they had watched my kids tricycle around the cul-de-sac–that circle where William learned to ride a bike, where we watched fireworks every Fourth of July, where we stood together with our neighbors watching the sky for tornadoes and hail, and where we brought Hunter home from the hospital for the first time. So many wonderful things happened there, and our precious neighbors were there doing life right along with us. That’s how it is with neighbors–they become a part of each other’s lives just by living it together.

I was most concerned about moving away from our comfortable little circle of neighbors. You never know what your new neighborhood will be like. Will there be someone creepy next door? Will there be good wholesome friends for my kids down the street? Will it be safe to go for evening walks? You know how it is. You find out every possible thing you can about the house you’re buying, but when it comes to researching the people in the neighborhood, there’s only so much you can do besides just flat out moving in and getting to know them.

When I prayed and asked God for this house, one of the things on my list was for him to give me a best friend that lived in the neighborhood. Now, the jury’s still out on that, because I haven’t met everyone yet. But I have totally fallen in love with all of the people that I have met in my neighborhood so far. I have thought many times in my life that I want to write a book, and I have actually started one or two, but. If I ever wanted to write a book about people, I would write it about these folks.

Bill and I marvel and laugh each day about the wonderful, funny, one-of-a-kind personalities of those that live around us. I seriously feel like I am reading a book each time I listen to stories about Mr. G who thinks he owns the neighborhood, just because he used to own all the property it is built on, and each time I gaze out of the window over my kitchen sink to see Mr. B sitting in his nightly perch with his cold drink, and each time I notice Ms. C carefully tending her garden and deck. Mr. D mows for Ms. C, Ms. C recycles for the whole bunch, since she “doesn’t get her money’s worth” of the recycling can, and Mrs. B knocks on my back door to remind me when it’s trash day or to offer to carry my empty water jugs to Ms. C’s blue bin. It’s just like a story, I tell you.

I really hope to spend some time blogging in a little more detail about my neighborhood, because it is so delightful and full of humor. We still have a few homegrown tomatoes and jalapenos left from Mr. S and Mrs. P who brought them over to us the week we moved in. (We might be the only folks in B’ham who don’t have our own tomato garden.) And the day the firetrucks came (another story here, perhaps?), which was the same day the cable guy brought our internet and the moving crew came to help us with the last truck full, Mrs. L came to see if everything was alright, and to tell us that Mr. B is on staff at a local church and that the whole neighborhood are “Christian people, and most of us go to church.” She was just precious. I keep hoping to venture down to her “2-story brick around the corner” to visit soon.

So many fun details here are just a story waiting to be told. If you are a lover of the Jan Karon Mitford series, then you know why I love my neighborhood. It is it’s own Mitford. Perhaps that’s why Mitford is so well-loved–it is a character study in small-town life. I always thought Altus was a southwestern Mitford, and I could have written a book there too.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have time for a book, but I’ll aim for a blog post every now and then to give you a peek into my quaint little neighborhood.

Sweet Home Alabama

Jul, 17 2011
By Heather Kate
Family, House
2 comments

It is finally time for an official move report. I posted on facebook a couple of weeks ago about our Wild Goose Chase. We have chased the Wild Goose all the way to Birmingham, Alabama (the city of Helena to be exact), and we now sport “Sweet Home Alabama” tags on our vehicles. It has been a wild ride, to be sure, and one that has been full of surprises–some good (like the blues band at the Mississippi Welcome Center and the lightning bugs sparkling at night) and some bad (like the UHaul’s inability to navigate the hill in our driveway and the a/c fan motor in our house that blew out, resulting in a visit from the fire department our first Monday morning here.)

Back to the South

Birmingham is a beautiful place, and the people have been warm and welcoming. It feels strangely home to both Bill and me, despite the fact that neither of us have ever lived in the state of Alabama. We both claim the deep south as home (I–Lousiana, and he–South Carolina), and we keep finding subtle yet definite signs that we are back “home”. Things like fireflies, tomatoes grown by every neighbor, smocked dresses on little girls, barbecue chicken, front porches, flowers by the thousands, summer rain showers, trees towering above the rooftops, and beauty at every turn all join together to give us the distinct feeling of coming home. Between our new house, which is much bigger than our old one, and the general Southern charm, we feel like we are on a perpetual vacation.

One of the first things we did, after unloading 2 moving truck loads up the hill and into the 2-story-on-a-basement home, was to purchase 2 white rocking chairs from Cracker Barrel so that we could fully enjoy our new Southern lifestyle. No more folding out camping chairs in the driveway to watch the kids ride bikes in the baking sun. No siree. Now we watch them from our rockers on our porch up the hill, thank ya Lord. And when all the fixer-upper projects are done, Bill will be making me a new swing for the other end of the porch, just like the one he built that we left for the new owners in Altus. I look forward to completing the front porch atmosphere with hanging ferns and big pots of flowers. Then I will truly think I died and went to heaven.

Our New Home

The home we found is quite a story of God’s provision. Back in April I had taken an exploratory trip to Helena to verify our sense of God’s calling that we were to move this location. I house-hunted with my mom after visiting the schools and meeting with principals, and I was hard-pressed to come up with the “right” home that suited all of our needs yet still stayed within our desired price range. We put an offer in on a big dream-home-to-be that was unfinished, figuring we would finish it ourselves, as long as we could get it low enough. We didn’t get it. Someone bid higher. Then, a week later, we put in a contract on a home a little smaller than our Altus house that was a beautiful home in a good neighborhood, even though it was a bit small. T-H-R-E-E days before the closing, two crazy random things happened with the appraisal and survey, and we opted not to buy the home. That left us with about 5 weeks to find a home, get a contract on the home, secure the mortgage, and close on it before our scheduled move date. All from over 800 miles away.

So Bill set out for the second house-hunting journey, with a truckload of our belongings to put in a storage unit while he was at it. While he was on the way, I began to pray, in a way that I had not before, truly calling out to God to open up His storehouse and provide for us a house that met our basic needs without requiring us to rent a storage unit or give up all of the things we love to do and have been gifted with. Remember, we made this move at His divine direction, so we felt that He would surely provide what we need to accomplish this plan.

First of all, we plan to both work from home. So we need an office space big enough for the both of us. Second of all, we cook several meals a week, so we need a kitchen big enough to do more than just turn around in. Third of all, we have a lot of stuff, which is because we do a lot of stuff, and we needed a place to keep it and do it. Sewing, crafting, woodworking, welding, photography, you name it. Skills require tools, tools require space, and we were both willing to give it all up to go where God leads. But really? Is that what He wanted for us? “If that’s what You want, that’s what we’ll do. But pleeeeze let us continue these gifts you have given us in this new place of service. You own the cattle on a thousand hills, so you must surely have a house that will suit us and that we can afford. And like, today…” This was part of my prayer.

Apparently God was listening. Perhaps He had been waiting ALL ALONG for me to really start believing that He had a house pre-selected for us and to just flat out ask for it. I didn’t just ask for the “right house”. I spelled it out in a 35-point list of the features that I believed our house required to meet our needs. As audacious as that sounds, there weren’t luxury items in those 35 things, like granite countertops or grandiose light fixtures. The list was really pretty basic, with things like: a pantry; a dining room; a laundry room; a fourth bedroom or office; a workshop or basement etc. I added a few extras like the front porch, fresh paint, and great neighbors, but I didn’t go overboard. And I have to tell you, this house I am sitting in, complete with 33 things from that list, came on the market the DAY Bill traveled to Helena to look for houses. It was a foreclosure, so it had the space we really needed all packed in to the budget we had allotted. I still have to pinch myself to find out if it’s for real.

Not only did God provide for us this great house, He put it right in the middle of tons of sweet of neighbors, in the school district we wanted, and with freshly-painted trim, doors, walls, new carpet and hardwood floors on the main. Now, we have had plenty of work to do to bring the rest of the house up to par, but the space is here, and the house is darling and perfectly situated on the top of a hill with a mountainous view.

Project People

I distinctly remember writing one of my very first blog articles, some eight years ago, about the fact that I am not a Project Person. Well, folks, I wasn’t then, but after 11 years of being married to Bill McKelvey, I have to suck it up and claim myself as a project person. It took me a long time to admit it, but I have completely become what I thought I would never be. (Never say never…) So, this house is perfect for us project people. Some of Bill’s projects thus far have included: replacing the condensate pump, running a gas line to the dryer, rebuilding several toilets, removing the broken storm door, servicing air conditioners, replacing the fan motor on an a/c, and installing a gazillion blinds. My projects? Scrubbing tile, cleaning windows, painting inside stinky cabinets (one of those not-so-nice surprises), and of course unpacking 5,000 boxes. There’s a whole lot of overspray left over from the painting crew, so we have some elbow grease yet to expend in places we wouldn’t have realized. And several appliance installations await, since the appliances were complete bombs.

Needless to say, it’s been a big-time challenge to move into a house needing so much work, but we have felt so very grateful to have this house to work on, that we have enjoyed most every minute of it.

Looking Forward

We visited a big, fancy church today. We didn’t realize that’s what it was–we just sort of took a stab at where to visit. It turned out to be wonderfully welcoming, and the people took us right in and helped every member of our family get connected right off the bat. It is very odd to answer the questions of what brought us to Birmingham, seeing as how we don’t yet really know, other than that God led us here and we like it. The pastor’s sermon had three main points–God is Good, God is Great, and God is Gracious. And the statement I took home was that God will give us the grace to do the next right thing that He has called us to do.

God called us to move to Alabama. It has been a moment by moment faith journey. Uncomfortable? Yes. Uncertain? Absolutely. Scary? A little. But God is good. And He has the power to work His grace throughout our lives. That’s all I know at this moment. The next right thing for me to do is to go to bed. And the next right thing after that, besides take care of my family, is to paint some stinky cabinets. And sooner or later, He will reveal the next right thing for us to do, that will hopefully have a paycheck attached to it. Until then, we have only to trust.