The family home is still on the market. We’ve had two offers in the almost three months it’s been listed, one very high and one very low. I feel like Goldilocks, waiting for something that’s juuuust right.
There hasn’t been an offer in a month, even though every time I stop by the house I find a half dozen realtors’ business cards on the kitchen counter. Along with random lights left on, doors left unlocked, and various things (like window treatments and the automatic garage door opener) broken.
Susan at My Abandoned Self gently suggested that I may be unconsciously holding on to the house even now. I appreciated the insight and realized that a little part of me still feels like it’s our home. I spent some time meditating on that and affirming that I release the house that no longer serves us and know it will become a happy home to another family.
And I decided that a little more divine assistance might be helpful. I buried a Saint Joseph statue in the front flower bed. I’m not an adherent to any organized religion, although I do like the Catholic tradition of saints quite a bit. Saint Joseph is the patron of a happy home and frequently asked for intercession in the buying and selling of homes. So that’s what I did.
If he’s busy, there’s always Saint Jude, the patron saint of hopeless causes.