So the Browns have arrived in Wilmington, Delaware!
If you've done it before - packed up your life into a thousand cardboard boxes and plunged into the deep end of a new life in a new place - you know what an act of faith and holy patience it is.
So much that is UNKNOWN ahead...where is the closest grocery store? will we make new friends? will Kevin like his new job? will I find a place to make and show my art? can I continue to teach? and where are the lamps that go with all these shades?
But one very known aspect of this move was our new home, Bishopstead. How very wonderful to have a job that comes with a fabulous old house! Built in 1912 by members of the Du Pont family, Bishopstead is in a lovely neighborhood near the Delaware Art Museum and between two big, gorgeous parks. And as you can guess from this photo, it is grand and quirky.
I can't wait to share more details of this amazing place, but for now, let me share a poem written for me by my Charlotte friend Mary Cox. It's been on my mind a lot, as I wade through packing paper and this "in-between" time as we work on the house and get ready for the work of "real life" and office hours and disciplined routines to begin in November. Thank you to Mary and all our Charlotte friends who have encouraged us and prayed for us in this new life. We couldn't have done this without you.
If you've done it before - packed up your life into a thousand cardboard boxes and plunged into the deep end of a new life in a new place - you know what an act of faith and holy patience it is.
So much that is UNKNOWN ahead...where is the closest grocery store? will we make new friends? will Kevin like his new job? will I find a place to make and show my art? can I continue to teach? and where are the lamps that go with all these shades?
But one very known aspect of this move was our new home, Bishopstead. How very wonderful to have a job that comes with a fabulous old house! Built in 1912 by members of the Du Pont family, Bishopstead is in a lovely neighborhood near the Delaware Art Museum and between two big, gorgeous parks. And as you can guess from this photo, it is grand and quirky.
I can't wait to share more details of this amazing place, but for now, let me share a poem written for me by my Charlotte friend Mary Cox. It's been on my mind a lot, as I wade through packing paper and this "in-between" time as we work on the house and get ready for the work of "real life" and office hours and disciplined routines to begin in November. Thank you to Mary and all our Charlotte friends who have encouraged us and prayed for us in this new life. We couldn't have done this without you.
Home-making (for Caroline Coolidge Brown)
You never planned to be a clergy spouse ----
you didn't think you'd fit the job description ----
but God called Kevin. What's a girl to do?
Dismay and panic, verging on conniption ----
and then a daffodil: God said, "You're in this too.
And oh, you've not been called to keep a house."
In fact, you've packed, unpacked ----but not to stay ----
for all too soon, another moving day.
So you've made homes that travel where you go,
crafted of scraps and love, and prayer and laughter,
love's joyous dance, a few unbidden tears.
It's the routine a hermit crab would know ----
no certain space for happy-ever-after,
a heart that's housed wherever home appears.
This time between the houses here and there,
routine suspended, life packed up in crates,
remember that whatever house awaits,
we are each other's home, where hearts connect,
open to other hearts. You can expect
your home's already eager to begin
unpacking in the house you'll put it in.
Mary W. Cox, October 6, 2017.
you didn't think you'd fit the job description ----
but God called Kevin. What's a girl to do?
Dismay and panic, verging on conniption ----
and then a daffodil: God said, "You're in this too.
And oh, you've not been called to keep a house."
In fact, you've packed, unpacked ----but not to stay ----
for all too soon, another moving day.
So you've made homes that travel where you go,
crafted of scraps and love, and prayer and laughter,
love's joyous dance, a few unbidden tears.
It's the routine a hermit crab would know ----
no certain space for happy-ever-after,
a heart that's housed wherever home appears.
This time between the houses here and there,
routine suspended, life packed up in crates,
remember that whatever house awaits,
we are each other's home, where hearts connect,
open to other hearts. You can expect
your home's already eager to begin
unpacking in the house you'll put it in.
Mary W. Cox, October 6, 2017.
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