Space: The Frontier

I have been thinking a lot about space recently. On June 9, Michael officially moved out of the house. I was afraid of the day as it approached and protective of Asher and Harper. Neither is at the age where they will remember details as they get older, but I didn't want them to have the painful memory of their dad driving away from their home with all his stuff.

The move, rather than being terrible and tormenting, was liberating. A weight was lifted with his stuff out of the house, clearing out the clutter of all his little things, of the heavy presence of his empty shirts hanging in the closet, of the dishes I disliked but kept because he liked them. Throughout the house, there was new space, unclogged space, space like under the window in the dining room that stood oddly empty because a piece of furniture was gone.

Not four days later, a shipment of furniture that had been passed down to my aunt from various family members, including my grandparents, arrived in the new space. Because of my crazy work schedule (someone equated this time of year for me to tax season for accountants, which is so right on), my house has been cluttered and chaotic ever since. There are partially finished projects, empty bookcases, rooms crowded will randomly placed furniture. It will be several more weeks before I finally find the time to sort things out. Sometimes - like today when things just feel hard and heavy - the chaos is overwhelming. I crave a space that is simple, arranged, not transitional. But most of the time I am excited by the chaotic space because I made the chaos, I choose to keep the chaos, and, out of it, I will create the space I crave.

In this space, it is surpising to me how much impact space - its aesthetics, meaning of things init, the need to have our own - has on us. Sometimes the impact of our space is so subtle. In this disorganization, I can't locate my copy of Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own (oh! there will be a day when my books are organized), but the lecture to book topic stresses the importance of women having their own space in which to write . . . even just a desk. Yes! It is so important to have our own space, to create that space, to cover it with the things and style and books and pens that we love. I have imagined my ideal office (when I am fanciful about becoming a college professor and invisioning my college office where I meet with students and study between classes) as covered with pictures of and work by powerful, strong women - Amy Lowe's grandmother flyfishing in a river, my grandmother in the WAC on the cover of Time magazine, Frieda Kahlo, Georgia O'Keefe, Jane Austen, Virginia Woolf, and others.

With the change in physical space, there is also a change in psychological space. There is space between Michael and I. Where our relationship was, there is room for new things, new discoveries, new places for me to step in to. In the emptiness and chaos, I am stirred to tears of pain and moments of exhiliration. With what will I cover this new space that God has blessed me with?

In the last few days, with Michael being around the house more than he has been, I have found myself using the phrase, "I need some space." My mind is in an infirmary - wounds, healing, treatment and healers are all present. There is pain even as there is progress, setbacks, emergencies and giant leaps forward. As when I gave birth, there are times that my space is crowded with people and times when I limit access, times when I only allow healers in and times when visitors are welcome. I am covering my space.