We’ve lived in our house since November 11, 2007—so, eight years. I love our house, and I am firmly convinced St. Joseph lead us to it. When we decided to leave our house in San Francisco and move to Maine, I made a trip to the bookstore at St. Mary’s Cathedral to buy a St. Joseph’s home seller’s kit. I insisted that everyone in our family traipse out to our garden to reverently recite the prayer included with the kit. D. and I also decided to start dropping in at a nearby church, St. Dominic’s, to light candles and pray for success in this huge life change.
(Bear in mind that at this point in time I was not Catholic and had no intentions of joining any church, let alone the Catholic Church. D. had left the church long ago, and we had never once attended church together.)
However, I was inexplicably drawn to the Church at this point in time. And, it seems clear by the events which transpired, that the Church was calling me, too. After all our prayers and candles, we sold our house—within one day of putting it on the market. Plus, it sold for above our asking price.
We had 30 days to find a new house, now that ours was sold. Yikes! On Columbus Day, 2007, we flew to Maine and looked at four ghastly houses, each more depressing than the one before. I despaired. People in Maine have really sucky houses, I remember thinking. Where are the old Victorians of San Francisco? The Craftsmen bungalows of my childhood neighborhood in Berkeley?
And then, the realtor finally drove up to the fifth house. “I saved the best for last,” I remember her saying, but I wasn’t really paying attention because as we pulled into the driveway, I felt shivers all over. We walked around the house before we went in, and my eyes inexplicably filled with tears. This was it. Our home. Our forever home.
Walking through the perennial gardens planted around the house, I had two visions: one of a little pup tent, pitched behind the house on the lush lawn. Clearly a small child had been sleeping out in it. In the second vision, the back part of the expansive lawn was taken up with a giant white wedding tent. Clearly, a grown up child was having a wedding reception here.
Now, I have never had visions. Ever. And I had no intention of having kids back in 2007. But—God came into my life. I know St. Joseph brought us here, and I know it was all part of my journey to the Church. Now we have a child, our beautiful Bambino, all set with a pup tent. If he isn’t called to a priestly vocation, he might be the one to have a wedding reception on the lawn, too. Thank you, St. Joseph!
One last word about St. Joseph: my parents, who are both life-long atheists, also asked St. Joseph for help in selling their home when they decided to move to Maine to be nearer to us. They had one open house, and had FIFTEEN different offers from it. Are ya convinced of the efficacy of the saints' intercession yet?
I find out from my husband, D. Years ago I decided watching the news was not conducive to my health. And recently I cut out listening even to NPR. D. scours all the online newspapers internationally, and gives me the world update when I ask, or when he feels I need to know. I call it “the Doom and Gloom report.” That’s what it feels like to someone with anxiety, at any rate!
3. Would you be able to make change for a twenty right now? For a dollar?
If you wanted it in Euros, yes! We’re all set to leave for our trip to Germany on Thursday!
4. What's the craziest food you've ever eaten?
I have eaten fried meal worms, prepared by our science teacher at school. Meh. They mostly just tasted greasy.
I have eaten alligator, down in the Everglades. It tasted like chicken.
I have eaten cuttlefish eggs, on our honeymoon in Venice. They tasted like chicken.
Moral of the story: why try weird food. It's probably going to taste like chicken.
I had a wisdom tooth removed a few years ago. And the Bambino was removed from me, three years ago.
(Funnily enough, neither of these surgeries resulted in any discernable blood clots, despite the fact that I apparently have both Factor V Leiden and prothrombin heterozygous, as discovered this year.)
6. What's your favorite sport to watch on TV?
Um, does crochet count as a sport?
I really have no interest in sports. As in, I have never sat through a complete football game, and I only ever attended baseball games as a child when I was compelled to as a YMCA summer camp field trip. I’d rather be crocheting!
Linking up with Kendra!