Yesterday was a burst of excitement and flurry of activity as I made plans to view a new house and contemplated the prospect of moving again so soon after just having moved. My energy was high and my expectations even higher. The anticipation of seeing the house again after having visited friends who lived there two years ago was palpable. My youngest son was the voice of reason during the whole experience. He cautioned that the house will be everything the house we currently live in is not. He explained that since he learned recently that he would not be going overseas to school, he had taken the time to move in an emotional sense. He had settled into his room by finding homes for all his things and had adjusted to the house's unique and irritating qualities. He has acquired a job and likes the people with whom he is working and wants to remain where he is. Although just a part-time job (I focused on this aspect during our many talks yesterday) he wanted to live up to the trust that his co-workers and supervisors had placed in him. When he first acquired the job about a month ago, he had honestly informed his boss, at his very first shift, that he was planning to leave for school at the end of August. His boss said that there would be no point in investing the time and effort to train him when he would not be working for long. So he was let go with a caveat that if his plans to go to school abroad did not work out he could return. My son was devastated, and I acknowledged him for his truthfulness and integrity. Last week when we discovered that we needed to obtain a visa before he could travel and that it would take up to four months, he relinquished his hold on his dream to that school and settled into life in our new town. He half-heartedly texted his former boss and let him know his plans believing that returning was far out of reach. But his boss called him the very next day and he worked all week. Fast forward to yesterday and I am a bee of excitement planning to move and he is crestfallen. Yesterday I did not understand and fought to avoid the interference with my high that his sober expression and measured tone evoked. I thought about his arguments last night and as trustworthiness appeared, when I was seeking how I could settle into being patient, I understood. Trustworthiness is the currency that my son is using to build a life in this new town. It may be just a part time job but it means the world to him to have others rely on him with confidence and for him to honour his commitments. And what of our commitment to our existing landlord? I had wanted to dismiss it out of hand on account of the litany of things that are wrong with our home but I realise that good things come as a result of being worthy of trust. Looking to the example that my son was demonstrating was caused a warm wash of shame to pour over me. What example was I setting for him? This must be the reason why when we had a tour of the house yesterday evening, that perfect pitch chorus that plays when things align in a beautiful and shiny way, I could not hear. Believe me the house was spacious, had all the fancy appliances and organised walk-in closet space that ordinarily triggered intense happy sensations in my brain. But the opulence of all of that was before me, caused me to think about the connections we were nurturing in the community. The warmth that flowed from peoples acceptance and love pulled at my heartstrings. My husband has left the decision up to me. I am chastened by the reminder of the practices of trustworthiness and will ponder what it means to treat the agreement I have made with my landlord as a sacred trust!
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