The calm after the storm

February 28.  On this day exactly a year ago, I lost the house I had been fighting a long 9 months for:

short sale approval
grant approval
demolition court?? WHAT
change banks for one that went with the grant approval
lost short sale window
applied for another short sale approval
sat in on building's court hearing
dug up everything I could on the house in past court documents
status at work changed
cancelled a trip to new york to attend landlord training class, required for grant
status at work changed back
short sale approved for closing Feb 28
grant date extended...to FEB 28
After calling countless insurance providers, finally finding one that would cover the house both unoccupied and occupied

The night before closing I finally fell asleep at 4am.

After signing papers for an hour (with a new inky pen!) the next morning I  was getting to the last pages, and suddenly, there was a call from the bank.

"Halt the deal.  This building is still in Demolition Court!"

I look at my lawyer.  We look at the other lawyer.  Everyone scrambles.  No one knows what to say. Or do.  I just sit there.  Speechless.

Call the city.  Call the bank.  Call the city again.  Call the bank.  Again.

After over an hour fighting both, neither of whom is willing to back down, my lawyer looks at me and shakes his head.  I was stunned.

The first person to speak was the seller's relator, an older African-American gentleman with a gentle smile and an oxygen tank always being wheeled behind him.  "The sad thing is that this building will never be owner occupied."   In that moment, I understood that holding back "the change" in the neighborhood was bigger than I could stop.  The homes available were only available to people sitting on thousands of dollars...wanting to make thousands of dollars.  Not caring about my community.  Not caring about my neighbors.  Not caring that slowly, each of them would be pushed out as poverty moved out and affluence moved in.

After generous offers by friends to help, and finding out that the building was not in fact in demolition court but had only been written up by their department, and then listed on their website (what my bank had, ultimately, seen and made their judgement on), we considered  pushing ahead, holding on by a thread, until realizing that we would have to submit and wait for a third short sale approval.  Enough! I said.  This is where I stop. This is where I walk away.  Or rather, at this point, limp.

My faith had been tested, no...crumpled.  It was still there, but it had been wounded in the fight, and I was walking lame.  If faith is "being sure of what you hope for, and certain of what you do not see" (Hebrews 11:1) how could this have happened?  My biggest doubt wasn't in God - it was in myself.  How could I have missed what He was telling me? How could I have misunderstood His leading? I can't see the future, true, but everything I wanted to use the house for were things that HE had placed in my heart.  Was I selfish to fight, even though it was for something that I felt God was leading me to?
I wouldn't admit it then, but I slipped in to a depression that I couldn't shake for many, many weeks, and found it hard to talk about for the better part of a year.

Looking back, I can see clearly the ways that God was showing up to comfort me. Not explain what happened, but to walk beside me.  A sermon on Jesus' words to his disciples before he ascended "Peace be with you.  Stop doubting and believe.  You believe because you see, but blessed are those who believe though they cannot see."
Him nudging me to move on as I approached my 31st birthday and shortly after, seeing that "my" house had been bought.  In a storm, the large radio tower beside the house that had always so marked it came crashing down.  Silly things, maybe, but all things that God (caused? used?) to help

my heart heal
my faith heal
my dreams heal

Romans 12:12 reads:  "Be joyful in hope (me before the house fell through)  Patient in affliction (me during the house process and when it fell through) and faithful in prayer (where I am now).
Is God still using me here in East Garfield Park?  Yes.  Does God have good things for my future? Yes.  Does following God mean everything will work out for you.  No.  It means that all things will work for the good of those who love Him, WHO HAVE BEEN CALLED ACCORDING TO HIS PURPOSE.  Have I been called according to His purpose?  Absolutely.  Is Christ building his church, and are the gates of hell not being able to stop it? Yes.  Did I pray that God help me to experience some of the things that my neighbors had been experiencing? Yes.  Did I now have a greater understanding of the complexity of the West Side and people debilitated by poverty and a market that gives them no regard?  Yes.

What good came out of this experience?
I have time to attend and help out with 6 friend's weddings this year
I was able to enroll and return to school full time to finish my BA in Social Justice and dream about an eventual MA in Conflict Resolution
I was able to start praying about what it would look like to work with gangs on the West Side.
I was able to imagine living in West Garfield Park, where my heart is being ever more drawn
I was able to provide a great landlord with a tenant for a year so he would not lose his building, and a roommate to a woman moving from FL that needed one.  (As well as her being an answer to my own prayer for someone to fill Hillary's spot).
I was able to provide a home for a friend and her 10 year old daughter and, in a month, new baby son.

I don't know what I have learned.  Maybe it is not even about that.  Maybe it is just about journeying on, despite understanding.  Faith being sure of what I hope for, a God that is loving and present, and sure of what I do not see, the plans that He has for me.

and then, God...

asked me to just keep going.