The Road to Santa Clara (Ch. 18): The Road Home
Ξ October 8th, 2007 | → | ∇ Stories |
The next weekend we flew to Oregon for a three-day whirlwind weekend. Our visit to Multnomah was like sliding together two perfectly fitted puzzle pieces. Everything was right. Clive met us at the front, like an old friend, and took us to lunch in the café where we met several other seminary students. We sat in on a class where the professor taught through Hebrews and we sat, captivated, like two sponges just soaking up every word. Since we were there on a Friday we ran into our friends, Mark and Adam, plus five or six other guys we hadn’t even known attended Multnomah. It was like a reunion. As we pulled away from campus, heading out Highway 84 across Portland toward McMinnville, I could scarcely believe this all was for real.I turned to Jeff and tried to articulate my thoughts. “Am I dreaming? Do we really get to move here? Get to go to seminary? I feel like we don’t deserve any of this. I mean, I complained so much about California. I don’t feel like I ‘passed’, I don’t feel like I did anything to deserve getting to have this dream of ours come true.”
He smiled at me and squeezed my hand. “We don’t deserve it, Sauce. None of it. You’re right, we didn’t pass. We never do. That’s not why He’s letting us come back. That’s why we just praise God for all of it.” I nodded. I knew he was right.
In McMinnville we met up with Benjy and drove around town. Jeff and Benjy talked about work, ironing out the details of Jeff’s schedule, work-load, and job description details. He showed us different neighborhoods, stopping whenever we saw a For Sale sign with a flyer on a modest home. By late afternoon we’d collected a stack of flyers and I’d collected a discouraged heart. Though certainly cheaper than California, I was surprised by how expensive homes were, and our down payment sum, which had seemed huge in my mind, shrunk more with every home we saw. The next day, Saturday, we had a meeting with our realtor, a family friend, so we hoped she’d have some ideas.
We met up with Carole, our realtor, at noon the next day. The afternoon was a little discouraging, as we realized our price range was more limiting than we had anticipated. We felt strongly that we didn’t want a mortgage that would require me to work. We’d always felt that we should keep our standard of living to Jeff’s salary, so we agreed to stick to our price range. At the end of our afternoon we’d exhausted her list and found nothing. We were scheduled to move May 1st, in just two weeks. What were we thinking, that we’d be able to buy a house for less than $150,000 over a weekend and move in two weeks later? We sat in our car, a little discouraged, and prayed. That night we stayed in town and went to dinner with Benjy and Zephyr. Being with them was great. We laughed ourselves silly, then they drove us around more, insisting that we’d find somewhere perfect for us to live. Before going home, we said we wanted to see the home they were building. They were scheduled to move in in another month, and they hadn’t really described it to us, so we were anxious to see it.
As we drove toward their home, we cross through a new subdivision with beautiful, well-kept homes. Along one side, new town homes were being built, in a split-level San Francisco style, with beautiful landscaping and single garages. We stopped so Jeff could grab a flyer, and I was amazed to see the price—$147,000. I folded the flyer and tucked it in my pocket. I had a feeling we’d just found a home.
That night, we called Carole again, asking if we could make one last trip to McMinnville on Sunday before we flew home that night. She enthusiastically agreed and we decided to meet at noon at the town homes. We arrived a few minutes early, so we thought we’d have a look around. They weren’t finished yet, but I walked over to one that had already been painted and looked almost complete. The garage door was open, so I cautiously walked inside, calling hello to see if anyone was there. No one responded, so I checked the interior garage door—it was open. I slid off my shoes and opened the door, the smell of new construction filling my lungs. As a daughter of a home-builder, I’d come to love the smell of sawdust, fresh paint, and new carpet. The home was perfect. The colors, the carpet, the trim, the floorplan, everything, was more than I could have ever imagined. With two bedrooms and 1200 square feet, it felt spacious to us after living in the apartment. The kitchen we open, the ceiling vaulted, the appliances new and beautiful. I walked around, stunned, amazed that this little home was sitting there, waiting for us. I stood and looked out the back window at the beautiful green forest, listening to the birds, inhaling the fresh air through the open window. I closed my eyes and tears fell down my cheeks—this home was from God. I stood there and couldn’t believe how He was demonstrating His love, His care, His extravagant provision so far beyond anything I ever deserved. I didn’t even hear Jeff and Carole walk up the stairs and into the room.
“What do you think, Sauce?” I turned around and they both smiled when they saw my face. Jeff came over and hugged me.
“How about if I let you two talk alone for a few minutes while I check out the house,” Carole suggest sensitively. Later, we met up again and finished opening doors, cabinets, peaking out windows and visualizing furniture. Jeff went over with a more critical eye, inspecting craftsmanship and quality.
“Let’s make an offer.”
There was one unit already completed, so even though we hadn’t seen it, we decided to make an offer on that one since we needed to move in two weeks. Carole drafted up the offer, we signed it, and drove straight to the airport, grabbing dinner on the way. While we arrived back in Santa Clara, we had a message from her saying that they were selling quickly and the one we made an offer on already sold. The next one to be finished was, amazingly, the one we’d happened to stumble upon and walk through that very day.
Jeff didn’t hesitate—“We’ll take that one.”
The next day Carole called us. “Congratulations. Your offer was accepted. I’m going to overnight the paperwork to you, so you can sign the docs, overnight them back, and we’ll close in two weeks. The unit’s not finished but the builder said he’ll have all his guys work on that unit and have it finished by closing. I’m seriously amazed, you guys. I’ve never had a house finish and close this fast.” We shook our heads, once again, in amazement.
Every spare minute we spent packing or hanging out with the Seifers. Now that we knew our time was limited, each evening or conversation or game of Catan felt sacred. The following weekend, Chase invited Jeff to stay late after church and play basketball with a bunch of the guys. Jeff had done this a few times, off and on, and since we figured this was our last time, we agreed to stay. Jeff also wanted a chance to talk to Pastor Steve, in person, about our decision to leave. Since Pastor Steve always stayed to play, Jeff figured he could catch him afterward and have a quick talk since he didn’t have a chance during the week to get off work and see him. I stayed to watch Jeff play, hoping to run into Kelly and talk to her in person as well.
Kelly and the seven Riggs kids were there. The older kids played with the men while the younger kids zoomed around on skateboards, threw each other on the high-jump pit in the corner, and took turns jumping off the stage until one of them hit his head and Kelly said that was enough. Patience, the lone girl, sat with me and asked if she could braid my hair. We cheered for the men while she pulled at chunks of my hair, jerking my head back at times but content to play and make me “pretty”.
I talked with Kelly briefly, as we kept getting interrupted by children’s injuries or famished tummies needing snacks. She was in total support of our decision, as I knew she would be, and wanted to hear all the details. “This isn’t home for you,” she said. After the game, Jeff sat down briefly with Chase and told him as well. I could see that he was sad, but also, I could see that he was committed to supporting us.
“I’m sorry, man. I was so excited to see you guys down here. I’m sorry about how it’s all gone for you.” He hugged Jeff quickly.
“Chase, there’s no need for anybody, anybody, to apologize. God brought us here. God had things to do in us. It’s been good. Hard, but good. We’re gonna miss you guys.” Chase didn’t like sentimentality, so the hugged turn into a punch in the shoulder and he pulled back, heaving the basketball into Jeff’s stomach.
“Without you here, who’m I gonna school on the court?” Jeff laughed and tossed back the ball as he caught sight of Pastor Steve heading toward the door.
“I gotta run, man. I’ll talk to you later.” We said goodbye to the Riggs nine as they trailed off, lugging skateboards and balls and sweatshirts and fruit snack wrappers as they went. Jeff grabbed my hand for me to go with him, and we caught up with Steve as he reached for the door.
“Can we talk a minute?” Jeff asked. Steve smiled again, the same inside-joke smile, and it made me wonder if he already knew we were leaving and somehow thought it was funny.
“Sure thing.”
“Well, I wanted to let you know in person that we’re moving to Oregon.” Steve chuckled and rubbed his hand over his mouth as if wiping off his smile.
“Can’t take it, huh?” He leaned back and smiled.
“Pastor Steve, with all due respect, it’s not that we can’t take it. It’s not about the church or you or any of those things. We’ve always dreamed of going to seminary, and God’s opened a door for that to happen. He’s provided a job, and scholarships and a home for us all, miraculously, in the last month. We’re moving May 1st.” Steve nodded.
“Just like Jenny and David. You know they walked away too. They couldn’t handle it either. Some people just aren’t cut out for difficult environments.” Jeff shook his head. It was like communicating with a wall. He took a deep breath, visibly restraining himself.
“Pastor Steve,” he began, then like a balloon slowly releasing its air, he let our his breath and stopped his sentence. He thought for a moment, then began. “We want you to know that we thank God for bringing us here. We felt like you wronged us, but we forgive you and we’ve moved on. We’re sad to see people get hurt here, and we just hope it doesn’t happen to anyone else. We love the people here, and we’re sad to leave them, but we know our season here is over. We’re not headed back to Oregon, we’re headed on to Oregon.” Steve just looked at us and smiled his same smile. Jeff smiled sadly, then extended his hand. Steve shook it, wished us luck, and walked out the door. I reached over to Jeff, who stood, still facing away, his hand still halfway extended, and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing around his middle, ignoring the sweat, now cold, that soaked his shirt. He, as he’d done so many times, kissed the top of my head.
“That’s it, Sauce. We can go home now.”
–
My dad once again volunteered to fly down in order to drive the U-Haul back up. We rented a tow package from U-Haul so we could tow the Jeep and Jeff could drive the Honda and I could just ride along and relax. We had been appalled at the price of renting a one-way U-Haul out of Santa Clara. It’d cost us $300 to rent one for the trip down, and $2700 to rent one for the trip back up. We decided that was the reason why California was so densely populated—no one could afford to leave. The night before, Aaron and Candi and Jeff and I stayed up until midnight, playing one last game of Catan and then spent a half hour praying together for each other. As we said goodnight, I kissed Candi on the top of the head and turned away before I started crying.
Dad arrived that morning with the U-Haul. We’d actually rented it out of Sacramento because it was cheaper, so Jeff’s dad picked my dad up and took him to the U-Haul yard and then Dad drove it down early that morning. He arrived about 10am, full of energy as always, remarking how lousy the Egg McMuffin was that he’d scarfed for breakfast. He hugged me so hard it took away my breath, as always, greeting me with the usual, “Hey baby!” He hugged Jeff, patting him hard on the back, telling him how much he loved him, as always. Aaron and Candi came outside with brave smiles, ready to help us load. It went quickly. We’d rented a small U-Haul, deciding that anything that didn’t fit we’d get rid off. The Lazy Boy didn’t make the cut, so Rick, who’d come to help us move, said he’d be glad to take it home.
When the final boxes were being situated, I ran a quick vacuum over the carpet and swept the 4-foot by 4-foot kitchen floor one last time. Jeff came inside as I finished and took the broom from my hand, pulling me close into his arms.
“I love you, Sauce. I am so proud of you. You did it. We’re going home.” He took the broom and vacuum out to the truck while I prepared myself to say goodbyes. I walked to the doorway and saw Candi a the corner of the apartment complex, burying her face in Aaron’s chest. My stomach knotted and my face scrunched up, as tears fell down my cheeks. I didn’t even think I could talk to her. I had come to love Candi more than I ever dreamed I’d love a friend. She’d loved me, encouraged me, prayed for me, sacrificed her whole life for me. She saw me coming and pulled herself away from Aaron, meeting my tears with her own. We fell into each other’s arms, crying and laughing at the same time, feeling silly but not caring how we looked.
“How did we come to love each other so much?” She asked, muffled by my shoulder. I shook my head. I didn’t know. I couldn’t talk so I just kept crying.
“You will always be my friend, Queen Candice.” She smiled up at me, through her puffy eyes and red, tear-stained face. We hugged one last time and I looked up, realizing that Jeff and Aaron were crying too, but in a more manly way, standing up tall. My dad, sensitively, hollered that he’d go get gas and meet us at the Texaco station so we’d have time alone. We stood in a silence for a few moments, then finally, Jeff said we’d better go. We all embraced, a four-way group hug, and then Jeff wrapped his arms around me, leading me toward the car. I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window at my friend. As we pulled away, I leaned out the window and waved, and waved and waved, until I could no longer see Candi’s face.
On our way out, I remembered something and asked Jeff to swing by the Right Stuff real quick on our way to the gas station. I grabbed a manila envelope I’d tucked into my bag, and ran inside, leaving it at the front desk for Nieve.
“What was that?” Jeff asked as I hopped back in the car.
“Twenty-five pieces of stationary and twenty-five envelopes, stamped and addressed to me at our new house. That way I know she’ll write.” He grinned at me and kissed my lips.
Once we got to the gas station, Jeff suggested that I ride with my dad for the first leg, since he’d come all this way for us and that way we could have some time to catch up. I thought that was great, so I hopped in the U-Haul, still wiping the mascara from underneath my eyes with my sleeve. Once we hit the freeway, I had the same feeling I had the very first time we’d visited Santa Clara, when we’d driven away and my cold had suddenly cleared up. My head felt clearer and everything seemed in perspective. I called Candi on her cell phone, even though we’d only been gone thirty minutes, just to hear her voice and make sure she wasn’t crying. She sounded like she was, but insisted that she was good and said that Aaron was taking her out to dinner that night so she didn’t have to cook. About an hour and a half into the drive, as we drove through Tracy, Dad and I heard a loud clang and then a crash behind us. We immediately looked in the rearview mirror and saw Jeff return from a swerve toward the center lane, but couldn’t see what had happened. A second later, my cell phone rang.
“The fender flew off!” Jeff shouted. Dad heard it through the phone, looked back on his side, and started laughing. Sure enough, the entire metal fender on the driver’s side of the tow trailer had come loose and flown off. “It flew twenty feet in the air and landed right in front of my car on the blacktop and bounced off the road. It’s a miracle it didn’t hit my windshield.” Then we realized how serious it was and thanked God that it hadn’t caused an accident. Dad grabbed the phone from me.
“Should get off the freeway and go back and get it? They might charge you for it at the U-Haul place.”
“No way,” Jeff insisted, “We’re going home.”
