The hardest thing about dividing patrimony wasn't losing all of the investment growth in the house and paying him out, surprisingly, (which was pretty bad, and the loan weighs heavy) because at least I kept the house for me and my daughter, but it was the renovation budget that got lost that I miss the most.
When we (it's funny I say we. I had the downpayment. I paid the weekly mortgage amounts. We signed a document together, so people think I should say we) bought the house, the owner wasn't honest, and when it flooded, the insurance didn't cover it. We (he did get a lump sum in when his great aunt died and gave him an inheritance) paid off the house, but any renovation savings went to french drains and sump pumps and shingles and furnaces, so that, finally, after more than a decade, we were still in the planning stages of the fun stuff, including the bathroom and kitchen, so that when we split, there was finally enough to do the bathroom and much needed kitchen updates, like floors and countertops.
Turns out I should have spent the money. If I owed something, I could have had the money to pay it off. It is so messed up that my responsibility has cost me me so much yet again. And this hurts. I won't have savings for many more years, and already the waiting is driving me crazy, because it has already been so long.
So when I visited a friend, I was surprised that she didn't seem to be driven to replace her dated bathroom tiles and fixtures or update the basement. At first I think I actually felt sorry for her. Because I felt sorry for myself, and my equally dated, arguably less kept up house. Maybe her finances had been too tight. Maybe her and husband weren't handy or had enough designer flare. But after staying with her for a few days, I saw her priorities. She had nice things. She had taken nice trips. She was on a budget clearly, but she spent her money on people and hospitality. She saw her kids and exercised her body before she spent money on her house. She had enough in the fridge for hosting crowds every week. She didn't care that the bed had no matching headboard, just that is was comfortable and available for a friend seeking shelter. Why did I care so much? I had lived for years in rentals that were much more rundown.
I was being Martha and she was Mary. I would love my ceramic from the 50s to be replaced. The tub with patches of ceramic broken and scratched to be changed. The toilet that only flushes if you hold it down a really long time. The stick down square vinyl tiles in my kitchen to all match. The oak floors that needed redoing when we moved in 13 years ago still need redoing. I have no budget to do any of it, and it bothers me with the injustice of this. It seems doable and frustrating at not doing it still. I am bitter and complaining like Martha did to Jesus. And there are moments when I totally agree with Martha and think Jesus unfair to her. But in this, I see my friend's house, and then I see mine, and I try and see this not as renovations lost, but of priorities regained.
I have a roof over my head and a solid floor. My sump pump keeps my basement dry and my furnace keeps my daughter and I warm. I repainted the front room trim and radiator to welcome friends to a cleaner look. I vacuum the cat hair and wash the windowsills and decorate for Christmas, and my daughter notices and my friends visit and enjoy, and I think, ah, Mary, so this is what you see. Love doesn't have to look good in a magazine. It is not a perfect picture. It is a cared for place, with space to craft and eat and break bread together. It is a couch to cuddle on, and a purring kitty in your lap, and a friend who brings birthday cake. It is a place bigger than I need with a purpose I want to share with more. But for now, and how it is, it is enough.
Thank you, dear friend, for the lessons I learn from you, your life, your house, your amazing grace, purest love and generous hospitality!
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