She’s Coming

(Almost two months since my last post. It went by fast. I have about 12 posts I've worked on but not completed. Well, here's one that's timely. I began it earlier this week. Alone. In the rain.)

From my window, I’m enjoying the view of the undulating hills to the south of my complex. They are at least three shades of green, crowned with dove-gray remnants of rain clouds. People who haven’t been to Redding will call them mountains. I forgive them.

The hills surrounding Simi Valley will stay green as long as it rains, and it rained all last night, stopping sometime after five this morning. The air is fresh and cool, washed clean of allergens and whatever particulates blow in from the farmland that is so much a part of Ventura County, home of the famous Oxnard strawberries that you can eat from February to October.

I love my home.

Almost May, and still cold. A month ago, the mountains to the north of the valley were draped in an ephemeral snow. I giggled when I saw it. I love the sight of the pure, white, crunchy stuff . . . far away . . . in the distance, where I shall never have to set foot. Delightful to behold–horrible to plod through, shovel through, drive through. Remember, I was born and raised in New York, so I know what I’m talking about.

I live in a pretty place. There’s lots of open land between here and the sea, and places to enjoy it. Rancho Sierra Vista in Newbury Park, Pt. Magu, on the coast. The Reagan Library, perched on the edge of the valley affords a magnificent vista, as well as quiet gardens surrounding the Italian-style villa of stucco walls. Downhill from my home sits a lush golf course where man and Canadian geese share an uneasy truce on the fairways, and below that a well-manicured county park. Quiet, deserted most of the time. I like quiet. In fact, I am noise sensitive.

Despite the fact that my development fits between two streets, a shopping center and a senior apartment complex, it’s a quiet place. We're seniors. We don't party hardy, and visiting grandchildren go home. Because the units below and on one side have been empty since I took occupancy, quiet has been the norm. But no longer.

She’s coming.

Funny what you get used to. I’ve tried not to take for granted the total lack of noise below and beside, kept reminding myself that one day it would be over. And it will be soon. Someone has purchased the condo downstairs. I hear she’s a single woman, which is better than a couple noise wise. I also hear she has a dog, and I’m not thrilled. Seniors tend to have small, yappy dogs. I’m . . . concerned. I’m not fond of small yappy dogs.

Tuesday, the developer’s advance team (for lack of a better term) spent the day checking all the appliances, water, gas, and so forth, making sure all is functioning. I could hear the water running as though it were up here. At one point the whole place shook violently. Rain was falling, so I thought it might be thunder. I was wrong. The guys were running a drill. Amazing.

She’s coming. And I hope she doesn’t do any wood working.

Today I could hear the exhaust fans, heating and air conditioning running. Wow. This is certainly going to take some getting used to. But I’ve been praying for God to put someone in that unit who would be a good neighbor and a friend. I have to trust that His plan is good, no matter what.

Never one to worry in advance, I still awoke at 5 AM thinking about what it would be like having someone living downstairs. I’m excited and nervous at the same time.

She’s coming. What will it be like?

Anticipation supercedes the transient worry. Along with it, a deeper understanding of what my neighbors are experiencing with noise problems. It’s the biggest complaint here. You see, while the builder used sound abating material in the walls, he neglected to install any in the floors. Go figure. Most residents assumed he had. And, "You know what happens when you assume."

So therein lies the cause for concern.

My daily devotions in Jesus Calling have focused a lot on thanking God for problems, troubles.

His word says, "Count it all joy when you suffer. . . ." The Message puts it this way: Jam 1:2 "Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides."

That’s hard for me. And counter-intuitive to human nature, I think. I can thank God for the results, for His using the challenges. I can even ask Him in the middle of troubles, "Okay, God. What do you want me to learn from this?" So that's progress. Right?

Bottom line: When I suffer through stuff, pain, anguish, insults, fear–I can relate to others better. There is more credibility in my "I understand." And it makes me more like Jesus. It’s what Paul refers to as "the fellowship of His sufferings." Phi 3:10. Kind of like the "Fellowship of the Ring," without the Orcs and Goblins. But the fellowship part is right. It’s what binds us together as a family.

She’s coming. Closing is expected May 15. It's the beginning of something; the end of something.

So. Should I bake cookies?