August ticks along

Brio has discovered that he is allowed to play ball in the downstairs rec room AS MUCH AS HE WANTS, and he is delirious, playing to the point of exhaustion. Never has he had such an amazing experience. He remembers coming the first weekend, and this weekend he could hardly wait to get inside, knowing his ball would be produced without limit. When I take him out to pee, he does what he has to do as quickly as he can and pulls for the door, eager to get back to his ball. Even the enticement of a walk holds no charm for him, compared to his squeaky red rubber ball. At our city house, he watches me put the ball away in the closet and walks away without a murmur, because unlimited play is not associated with that house. But here---he has come to expect pure bliss. I want him to associate joy with this place. He is still a Velcro dog, however; he doesn’t like to be left alone. When I tried to sit outside alone this morning, I could hear him howling inside like a pipe organ until I relented and brought him outside with me. But no, he didn’t want to sit with me; he wanted to be inside with his ball. With me. He made himself very clear. Who says dogs can’t communicate? This one speaks volumes. 

My husband has spent this week phoning multiple people – furnace guy, septic company, oil company, general contractor, architect, municipality, township, tax people, basement guy, the person who got Phase One done, the company that actually did the study, and the window guy. We will need to redesign the plumbing and wiring and maybe install a second bathroom while we’re at it. The good news is that the person who did the Phase One study is happy to re-do it for us at a discount (we can't piggyback onto the original one), and he will include the soil sampling in it so that we don't require a Phase Two. And it sounds like rezoning will be fairly straight-forward. We hadn’t thought to rezone yet, but if the ducks are in a row and people are open and active now, maybe we’d better go ahead and strike while the iron’s hot. I want to add residential zoning but also keep the institutional zoning so that we can run workshops and retreats, like a community centre. I envision throwing big suppers in the basement again, or setting up tables on the lawn and serving people there.   

There is something about a church that makes you drop your voice and tiptoe. Even without the pews and trappings, the sanctuary has a hush about it, a feeling of blocking the world out and the quiet in. I don’t think people have enough silence in their lives. There is always something going on---voices, cars, planes over head, phones, computers, air conditioning, TV, the hum of the fridge. The brain is always tuned in and the ears are always alert. My husband and I discussed whether people would be willing to buy quiet. Come on retreats where they are allowed to sit still and do nothing, hear nothing, say nothing. No technology, no distraction. There are days I would pay handsomely for that myself. (Well, I guess I have, in fact, done just that.)

It's all sounding more hopeful and less depressing now, and the anxiety forming a ball in my stomach is starting to loosen. It’s still going to cost a fortune, but at least it sounds like it’s doable. I can still belong, one day, to this marvelous landscape. And I can be a steward to this little church.