False walls needed to be built to support the soon to be cut edges of my beautiful house. Wires and pipes needed to be disassembled and cut. Measurements would be made and lines drawn. No big deal, I was told. People do it all the time. As a matter of fact the mover himself assured me that he had been doing this kind of thing for about 50 years. He knew what he was doing. Who was I to worry? Right?
Wrong.
All I could think of were frayed edges, buckling floorboards and collapsing ceilings. To make it worse, this very experienced man and his crew were not doing the cutting. That special, all important job was going to be left to the one and only: Daniel. My insides were doing nothing less than screaming in revolt to what I was hearing.
Not that I didn't believe in Daniel, but this was my house. The same house that was going to have to be moved from its current location to our new property. I was going to LIVE in this house. As far as I was concerned we could take no chances. No, no, no! There must be another way.
There was. We could hire someone to do the cutting. Someone with years of experience. Someone who knew all the ins and outs, and about all that could go wrong and how to prevent it, but that would cost a few more thousand dollars. No. Daniel knew how to run a saw and how to build walls. With a few tips here and there he would be able to do it. I mean it wasn't like he had never been around a construction site. Right?
Right.
And so it was decided, planned, measured, built and finally...cut. With the help of a few brave souls who were willing to give it a try the house was successfully cut and prepped for moving. The movers came out and placed giant metal beams under it. These would hold it up and be attached somehow to their trucks which would then roll my house down the twelve mile stretch that led to its new destination.
Then the house mover called. There was a problem. Either we cut the top portion of the roof off for the move or we would have to pay a ridiculous amount of fees to the power companies to move the power lines. Would Daniel be able to do this too?
No. To my quiet relief this delicate job was hired out to a people who would carefully cut it and then replace it as good as new upon its arrival on the property. Now we were really ready to roll.
The big day finally came and the house began its journey to its new home. After a heartstopping scare-- involving a trailer tire going flat resulting in the whole truck and trailer (house and all!) sliding toward the road shoulder--the first half of the house was placed on the allotted spot on the property. The next day the other half arrived. It was placed a few inches shy of the other. Now the footers needed to be dug and blocks laid. Soon it would be back together again.
Things didn't quite go as smoothly as we would have like after that. Daniel was sick for almost two months, and a job that should have taken him a few days slowed to an almost imperceptible pace. Inspections were slow in coming for approval. In the end I see it as nothing more than a bump in the road. A boulder to cross as we hike along on this amazing adventure.
The blocks are finally laid. Everything is ready. Everything but the mover that is. We spoke to them this morning. Seems we have more waiting to do.
Or do we?
My God said that mountains could be moved with faith the size of a mustard seed. Have you ever seen a mustard seed? They are tiny things. The way I see it if I have mustard seed faith and add it to the mustard seed of my children and husband then this mountain doesn't stand a chance.
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