Colin and Sam are at Boy Scouts.
Daniel is studying.
Alex is with his girlfriend.
Domenick is at dinner with a friend.
It’s 7:32pm on a Tuesday.
My girlfriend will take Colin and Sam to and from Scouts tonight {love you M} so I’m propped in front of my computer, iPad Pro just off to the side for reference, with a glass of wine and Needtobreathe Radio streaming loudly through the Sonos.
I started my day at 5am at the gym – a new guilty pleasure. Then, I was off to a committee meeting, school drop-off, coffee with a fellow Chamber CEO in Asbury, hours of admin work, school pick-up, dinner prep, a Town Council meeting, and finally, painter prep.
We moved into this house 10 years ago – two months after my parents moved into their house on the other side of the property. 2007. Colin and Sam were 20 months old. I painted their room Yankees blue.
Yesterday, we packed our Ethan Allen dining room set into a minivan headed for Bayville to be refinished.
I bought that table 15 years ago. It’s beautiful and strong with only one or two careless heat marks on it’s rich chocolate finish.
Tomorrow, the first floor will be painted a chalky gray – a stark contrast to our Pottery Barn latte brown and moss green that currently surrounds us.
Almost nothing remains from April 2007…new couches, beds, colors, pictures. Our main floor is the heart of our home and by the end of this week, it will beat anew.
Colin is getting braces. Sam, glasses.
They will graduate elementary school.
They will spend the summer on adventures from Pennsylvania to Colorado without me.
They will turn 12.
They will start intermediate school.
Almost nothing remains from April 2007.
The rebuilding – remodeling, regrouping, repainting – have taken a decade.
Much like your home, ours stands as an everlasting reminder of the life that we live. The strong, steel bench in the shape of The Tree of Life on our porch – a wedding gift from my parents. The dent in door of our fridge – a memory of Alex unknowingly leaning on the door effectively pushing it into the countertop. The worn wood – years of bellying up around our counter for countless family meals. Birthdays spent dancing and drinking with family and friends. Tears from behind a closed closet door. Lost teeth. New teeth. Lost love. New love. Family pictures in front of the mantle. Christmas tree decorating in the bumpout. Kissing under the mistletoe in the foyer. Bookbags in the mudroom. We sat on the couch and fought – we also snuggled, played, and laughed in that same spot.
The first floor is nearly stripped this morning – primed for other people to come in and have their hand at a vision I had a decade ago. The bones, the foundation, will never change. Ten years later, though, tidying, sprucing, letting go, recreating is what’s in store at our home today.
Well, three months ago really because that’s where I left off. 
Now it is a beautiful Sunday morning. Easy like the song goes. I’m outside on my deck, Rook mug, filled with tea, close by as I get ready to finish this piece. The thing is, though, that a lot has happened in the last months.
Colin and Sam graduated, Alex left for bootcamp (and is graduating next week), and Daniel flew home to China for the summer. Oh, and I’m hearing about more and more couples considering divorce.
It’s hard to explain the undoing that needs to happen in order to land in a place where, if you are fortunate, your life is only slightly less complicated, if not filled with more joy, than when you were toying with the notion of leaving.
It’s not as easy as it looks.
What is relatively simple is the ability to replace, tear down, throw out, delete, burn, cut-off, and avoid. With a few clicks, you can nearly erase someone from the surface of your social media. You can donate that dress, pocket watch, bedroom set, or bread machine. You can swipe right.
Pretty easy.
It’s the rest that ain’t so much.
The good stuff – the heart work – cannot be unliked or hidden from your timeline. For me, there was a long process of undoing that had to take place in order for me to be able to sit peacefully out back this morning.
Although there were many things that had to happen in order for me to undo the doing, not the least of which was apologizing to my son’s father, welcoming his new love into my life, and now, painting my house, I read many books about marriage.
Some of my favorites include “The Meaning of Marriage” by Timothy Keller, “Sacred Marriage” by Gary Thomas, and “The Mingling of Souls” by Matt Chandler. Ideas of marriage intended to make you holy rather than happy, that your spouse is the right spouse for you, and that the benefits of staying married, barring any type of abuse, far outweighs getting divorce, are woven throughout each of them.
As a divorced proponent of marriage, my undoing included releasing the guilt I felt for not believing this, knowing this, the first time, and being thankful for another opportunity to do it better.
Colin and Sam are growing up. K and I have become strong co-parents and friends. I am blessed to be married to an amazing guy who allows me to process things in my own time and is a great kisser. My living room is gray.
So as I sit here this morning, one week from my second 1st wedding anniversary – lovingly surrounded by almost nothing from 2007, but by everything at the same time – if God took me this morning, I would let going knowing that my life was one well-done.