Saints, Cats, and Tiny Homes: Finding Magic in the Mayhem | Week 19 Post-layoff

"So it goes between the sign and the house?" Bryan asked, as he carefully planned where to dig the hole in our front yard.

I nodded. "Yes, the instructions say to bury it near the sign."

After weeks with just a few showings and without serious buyers, we remembered an age-old home selling ritual that helped us in the past: burying a St. Joseph statue in our yard. As we covered the small upside down statue with soil, I wondered if this traditional practice would enhance the modern real estate marketing taking place.

Between this and our cat's strategic decision to hide under the kitchen cabinets during our most recent showing, it had been quite a week of letting go of what we couldn't control and finding peeks of order within the chaos.

This Week's Reality Check:

• ✓ Met with the tiny home construction manager at our future lot
• ✓ Bryan performed lawn mower surgery on our electric mower
• ✓ Found my razor (after 4 weeks) and pink umbrella (missing for months)
• ✓ Buried a St. Joseph statue in the yard (home selling tradition)
• ✓ Survived another showing despite our cat's best efforts to sabotage it
• ✓ Navigated the maze of marketplace insurance to find a dermatologist

What We're Actually Doing:

Spiritual Strategies and Feline Saboteurs

"The main bedroom and bathroom wouldn't work for them and they didn't like the 'apartments' in the back."

This was the feedback for Thursday's showing, landing with the familiar thud of disappointment. Those "apartments" are actually an assisted living facility—quiet, wonderful neighbors who we specifically mentioned to our agent during our initial listing meeting.

Friday brought a small ray of hope in a special delivery: our St. Joseph statue. If you haven't heard of this tradition, home sellers bury a St. Joseph statue upside down in their yard to help sell their home. The practice dates back hundreds of years, with St. Joseph being the patron saint of home and family.

We first learned about this tradition when selling our house and restaurant in Chicago so we could move back to Texas. Burying him in the middle of winter in Chicago was much more difficult than here in Texas in May! Now he's settled in our yard, hopefully working his real estate magic.

If St. Joseph was our spiritual strategy, our cat had plans of her own. Saturday brought another showing and another round of making our house look uninhabited.

"Everything was going great getting the house ready," Bryan said later as we recounted the preparation. We'd had a showing earlier in the week, so things weren't too messy—but we wanted to make a great impression.

With just minutes to spare before we needed to leave, Bryan noticed our cat sitting in a "peculiar" place in the kitchen. When we stood up to finish preparations, she disappeared into a hole under the kitchen cabinets—her second favorite hiding spot (under the bed being the first).

We spent the next frantic 15 minutes trying to coax her out before finally admitting defeat. We notified our agent, left the litter box (so much for a house with no evidence of pets!), and placed a note on the table explaining the situation.

The whole fiasco reminded us of a vacation to Maui years ago. Our taxi was waiting and we couldn't find our cat. After searching frantically, she emerged from under the kitchen cabinets as if to ask, "Who are you looking for?"

Between St. Joseph and our cat, we're humbly reminded of a powerful lesson about control—or rather, the illusion of it.

Finding Signs of Progress

"We're calling about your tiny home lot..."

Monday brought an unexpected but welcome call. After Bryan performed "lawn mower surgery" (successfully reviving our 9 year-old machine, for now), the tiny home property manager asked if we could come that day to meet with the construction manager and owner to determine how things would be laid out on our lot.

We quickly walked the dogs and headed to what we've been calling "tinyhomeville."

Standing on our future lot, placing flags to mark where our home, the decks, storage and carport will sit made everything feel more real. We even met one of our future neighbors who couldn't have been more welcoming - sharing tips and tricks that he's learned in his year-and-a-half living there.

As we stood on the lot, waiting for the others to joins us, the moment reminded me of a quote by Seth Godin, "Instead of wondering when your next vacation is, maybe you should set up a life you don't need to escape from." We're actually doing it! Taking a giant step toward creating a life built around what matters to us.

The community is taking shape in our minds—no longer just a concept but a place with real people and specific geography. It was exactly what we needed after weeks limited showings and receiving less than encouraging feedback from showings.

Finding Order in Everyday Chaos

Sunday was Mother's Day, and we spent it metal detecting (treasure hunting) in a nearby park for a few hours. There had been a large arts festival in the part the previous weekend so we thought we'd look for "surface finds". We found several coins, many looked like they had been there a while, camouflaged in the grass, hay and dirt.

I looked up and noticed an older lady making a "b-line" to us. As she got closer, she asked if we worked for the city. We let her know we didn't - and she proceeded to tell us that she worked for the city and that someone lost an engagement ring during the festival. She asked us to reach out to her if we found it, saying it would be a nice gesture if it was returned. "Of course", we replied. Unfortunately, we didn't find it.

Bryan found a teeny-tiny turtle that had wandered too far from the creek. We walked it back over to the creek and, as he set it down near the water, a duck family paddled over to supervise. After the turtle ran and dove into the creek, we left and enjoyed some Tex-Mex for lunch. Back home, Bryan mowed the lawn while I tackled washing both cars inside and out.

During my car washing meditation, I found myself reflecting on how the cleanliness of my car mirrors my mental state. When my car is dirty, my life could be a little chaotic, or rain is forecasted. For months, we've been living in a state of productive chaos—preparing, planning, packing.

The fact that I finally found both my razor (missing since the house was staged - but, luckily, I had a disposable to use in the meantime) and my pink umbrella (missing for several months) feels symbolic. I'm normally good at keeping track of my things, but these delayed finds speak to the literal chaos we've been navigating through.

Small victories like clean cars and found items might seem insignificant, but they represent a bit of order returning to our lives—proof that we're moving forward, even when progress feels slow.

The Healthcare Maze: A Test of Persistence

"I just need to see a dermatologist!" Bryan exclaimed after his third attempt to navigate our marketplace insurance.

The comedy of errors included:

• Receiving a list of doctors who all had the same address and phone number (20+ pages of names!)
• Finding doctors who claimed to accept our insurance... until they didn't
• Being told he needed a referral, getting one, then being told they don't accept our insurance after all
• Repeating this process multiple times

If there's one challenge of self-employment that tests our resolve, it's navigating healthcare. This particular adventure felt designed to break our spirit.

They say patience is a virtue, but whoever "they" are, they've clearly never spent hours dealing with health insurance representatives and doctor's offices. Still, we're persisting—because what choice do we have but to try again?

The Courage to Continue

Throughout all of these experiences—from lost umbrellas to uncooperative cats to healthcare headaches—we keep returning to Winston Churchill's wisdom: "Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts."

George Addair put it another way: "Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear."

The fear of change, of uncertainty, of not knowing when our house will sell or exactly how the tiny home transition will unfold—these are real. But so is our commitment to creating a life with more meaning and less obligation.

Tuesday we enjoyed the last of our spring weather on a long walk with the dogs, then completed the final storage organization, moving items from non-climate-controlled to climate-controlled units ahead of the sweltering temperatures headed our way.

These small actions move us forward, even when bigger elements like selling our house remain beyond our control. We've buried St. Joseph, we've cleaned our cars, we've flagged our tiny home lot—all acts of faith in a future we're still creating.

Our house will sell when it's meant to sell. Our tiny home journey continues to unfold. And in the meantime, we're finding magic in the mayhem, finding order within chaos, one found umbrella, one flagged lot, one buried saint at a time.

Let's Talk:

• Have you ever participated in unique home-selling traditions like burying a St. Joseph statue?
• What signs of order do you look for during chaotic life transitions?
• What helps you maintain courage when facing repeated obstacles?

Here's to finding meaning in the midst of transition,

-Kathy & Bryan

Note: This post is part of our weekly "Reinventing Midlifehood" series, chronicling our journey of working toward intentional living and rediscovering what matters after a midlife career transition. If this post was shared with you, we hope you'll join us as we explore the freedom that comes from choosing your own path rather than following conventional paths.