Today at this time I was to begin moving into a home that I have been waiting on for several months. This is a home that was built by my great-great-grandfather around 1890 in Richmond, Utah. The home has been in the family for nearly 120 years! Ancestors have been born and have died and have worked and played in that house. It was the home where my grandma grew up and since that time has been occupied by several uncles, aunts, and cousins over the years. I have spent many hours out there trying to get things cleaned up and improved. Perhaps I am too cheesy and sentimental but there is just a special connection I feel with that house because of my family. I was getting so excited to make the move, finally unpack my things, settle in, and take on the yardwork! In a way, taking care of the place would be my way of giving back some of what they have given me. But, as fate would have it, yesterday around 12:00 noon misfortune struck.
Needless to say, I won't be moving in anytime soon. We are very hopeful that it can be restored but we aren't sure yet. The original two rooms are salvageable and no one was hurt! I suppose those are things we can be grateful for. What is so interesting to me is that I was supposed to have moved in several times in the last few months but there always seemed to be problems that prevented that. In this awful accident there are many people who have lost more than I in terms of money, sacrifice, and sentiment. I do not want to sound like a poor victim here. Nevertheless, I find it remarkable that even in great loss we are shown the loving, and in this case, preserving hand of God. Though I feel sick about the whole thing, it could have been worse. Accident struck the day before I moved in!