Within a week I'd found my church and within days of that, the forest that would be its new setting. The trees were magnificent, too tall to identify the leaves, little undergrowth. I was spoiled. Nothing less would do. However, the lay of the land and lot wouldn't work. I walked at least forty lots, always comparing them, always disappointed. Three months later I discovered another part of the same forest almost two miles closer to town. It was bigger than I needed and too expensive, but I was in love. It worked out to get what one of my new neighbors calls The Nine Acre Woods.
Shortly after, I signed with a great realtor to sell my house in this deflated real estate market. It was and is a buyer's market. Six months of culling, giving away, packing, and coming to terms with my options had the desired effect and we sold my house on July 27th, after an intense month of wrapping up and away most of my life. It felt and feels right.
And now, we've cleared a driveway, the corridor for the church to enter her new realm, the house and garage sites, and a trio of dead trees propping up each other. The Dancing White Oak, my favorite tree from the very start, is in the open now, awaiting her garden.
We're in the process of preparing the church for her 60 miles journey to her new home. The date isn't exactly set, but will be within two weeks. A parade to escort this primitive timber frame church to her new foundations is in order. When she crosses the boundary line into her woods, we'll celebrate her entrance with much joy and revelry.
At every juncture, my understanding of this journey has broadened and deepened. If I hadn't bought the church on May 11, 2009 (due to circumstances not fondly remembered), I would have gone a different route many times. I'm glad I didn't have the choice.