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It’s forever a theme in my life that things go along swimmingly, and then some big interruption happens. Many of these interruptions are positive, mind you, so that’s okay. Sometimes, even the negatives can end up being positives. [For example, Dad's retirement + his networking = me attending MSMS, which made college much easier for me. College was easy, and that made it easy for me to work while I was in school, which led to me being able to have the job I now hold. Etc.]

On Sunday, I started househunting from my couch. Huntsville has a couple 30-minute home shows by different real estate groups, and I TiVo’d them. I found a diamond in the rough, so I started down that path.

Monday. BLAMMO! It looks like I’ll go from a temporary three roommates down to … none. Panic!

Later that night, Michelle and I talk about the possibility of them staying in the apartment until the end of the lease. We plot what to do with furniture. We come to a possible consensus to discuss with Leonard.

Today. I get some response for my roommate call. [Thanks, Luke; looks like I'm okay for now, but I'll help your friend find a place. Friends of friends have to stick together, man.] I go to lunch with PJ. Five sentences in: “Gricelda and I are meeting with a builder this week to start on our house.”

“When would you move out of the townhouse.”

“This summer.”

[Instapause where I mentally lay out what rooms will be what in his house.]

“The look on your face says that you’re interested. What’s up?” I relay my roommate tale of woe. “When is your lease up?”

“End of June. I could extend it if need be. When are you looking to be in your new house.”

“We want to be in there at Christmas. We’re willing to put stuff in storage and live with Gricelda’s parents for a couple of months if we have to.”

“Or you could take a three-month lease.”

“Yeah, that, too.”

“What are you asking?” We discuss prices. His number was what I knew he’d say; I remember what he paid for his house some … what … five years ago, when we moved out of our shared apartment. I remember the appraisal value as well. His number is the appraisal value. “We figured on losing 6% to the realtor. We won’t do that if we go with you. We’ll figure out what to do with that, whether to split it or what.” We share a quick look, knowing that, as friends, we’ll both seek to be fair to the other.

It’s amusing how my life keeps overlapping with PJ’s, even though we’re both very different than we were when we were both undergrads almost eight years ago. Our conversations are still as diverse, erratic, and fast-paced as ever. You know those friendships where you say more with looks and glances than words? We have one of those. Being in his wedding was so fun.

Tonight. I haven’t talked to the parents in too long, so I call. “Here’s what’s up.” They listen. “This all sounds very good.” I am mildly taken aback; I’ve made a set of decisions and explained them, and there’s no criticism [which, with my folks, is constructive and usually well-received, although I can be a hard-headed jackass when I want to be!], and also no advice. Just “Go with that.” Wow. Pretty cool.

“And then there’s another problem.”

Kari and I talked at length today about my moving possibilities and what that means in relation to church. I’ve long resisted changing congregations, but as I really considered it this weekend, as much as I love Aldersgate and have a home there, I don’t have a community there. That’s so important. [Hush, Lara.] So yeah … if I move north or west of here, I’m going to change churches, because I don’t have peers at my church. It’s been hard for me, and I’ve been fighting the move, and the reason why? I’m in service there, and I don’t like to leave service if I can help it. Also, my language for church change involves changing cities and states of residence; my folks do a long process of finding a church, but when we get somewhere, we stay. We find community and we hold to it, dammit.

I look at the community of my old church, Aley, and really want that. The “Lunch Bunch”: us, the Webbs, the Hamiltons, the Ennises, and a couple other families I’m sure I’m forgetting. We had that bond outside of church, going to lunch after Sunday School around 1100 on Sundays, and also doing big things together. The party I remember most from my eight years in Ohio is not for me or my childhood best friend Josh; it’s for Wendell Hamilton, a birthday celebration, I think, where we made fun of his sports car.

So yeah, a lot of changes in a brief period of time. It’s somewhat like a pond: some days, the winds make waves, but it’s generally calm. Then, from time to time, someone catapaults a junked-out Beetle into the middle of the pond and all hell breaks loose … but things return to some sense of stability as soon as the waves fade into ripples into … calm.