Finding Beauty Among Chaos

Is it even possible?

You know the saying. We all do. Basically, the idea is beauty can be found in chaos. So if you’re in the middle of a s*it storm, try to look on the bright side. You may discover some hidden loveliness in the process.

A bit much? A “realist” such as myself should think so. But I recently had the opportunity to put it to the test.

Last month, in the midst of fall activities and with the holidays rapidly approaching, my husband and I found ourselves in the position of putting our home on the market to sell. This wasn’t in the immediate plans, but we had been casually looking for another home for years and finally found one that could be our forever home. Not only did it check some critical boxes for us both (a tall order), but it was also within walking distance to my parents and one of my sisters. What a dream! With time of the essence, we bit bullet (complete with 7.5% interest) and made an offer, which to our delight, was accepted.

But this put us into full-on house selling mode. Having lived in the same place for 15 years, we had our work cut out for us. We spent hours upon hours making minor fixes, scrubbing, polishing, you name it. All the things you do. Not to mention the emotional disconnecting that must take place. And up it went for sale.

With two small kids in the mix, let me tell you, trying to keep a place “show ready” every day is chaotic in and of itself. I feel badly about how many times I snapped, especially at my older child, over another wrapper on the ground, shoes thrown in the middle of the living room, and general exhaustion over the whole thing.

We then had an open house. An entire weekend of being out of the home, our belongings still inside, and strangers walking through it. And because we had plans both evenings as well, we basically didn’t see the place for two full days and nights except to sleep in it.

Sunday night, after the open house, we were delighted to have an offer come in. Truly with a softening real estate market (did I mention 7.5%?) and the holidays approaching, we did not know what to expect. Next came another offer. And then another. And another.

How exciting! Our dream was becoming a reality! We began promising the kids with pool nights in the new house, mentally measuring for drapes, calculating how much renovation money we’d have to play with—truly envisioning our new lives in our forever home.

Until the next day.

That’s when my husband came home from work to find water all over the living room floor near the kitchen. Literally panicking, he called to break the news to me while simultaneously trying to figure out the source.

Water. Everywhere. Source. Unknown.

“I ran the dishwasher this morning,” I told him. “It has to be that.” Immediately I kicked myself for doing so. But realistically, it was my only option. We had been displaced from our home for days. We were under the obligation to keep it perfectly show ready for other people wanting to see it as offers were coming in. I have a job. When else was I to run the dishwasher?

Quickly I talked my husband out of taking a sledgehammer to the wall, which seems to be his go-to move in a panic. I also talked him out of an attempted DIY plumbing job, for fear of, well, a DIY plumbing job. Of course, none of this was done in the right tone of voice. So tensions were high.

Having satisfied ourselves that it was likely a line running to the dishwasher that was the culprit, a call to Roto-Rooter seemed to be the solution. Someone came out pronto. Great. But what he told my husband? Not so great. “There may be a leak in the pipe buried in the slab. We need to get another team out here to pin point it.”

Deep breaths, we told each other over the phone. No need to panic. We don’t know yet what the problem is. Let’s not go “worst case” on this. Let’s see what they say in the morning between 8-12. You know, our assigned timeframe to be home and wait without running water.

Finally, I arrived home for the evening, Costco quesadillas in hand. Because I hadn’t been living the chaos quite like he had, I brought a fresh perspective to the situation. Almost immediately, I realized that the flooring separating our living room from our dining room (and nowhere near the suspected leak) was bubbling like a volcano on the verge of eruption and was hot to the touch.

And this was the point where I felt on the verge of eruption. We had done so much to get to that point. We were riding the highs of multiple offers on our home and finally finding our forever place. And THIS was the time that our 1999 plumbing decided to give out on us? INSIDE THE CONCRETE SLAB? BENEATH THE FLOORING?

The night was largely sleepless.

The next day, I got two children ready for school without running water, dropped them off, and hustled to get back by 8:00 so as not to miss a minute of my scheduled timeframe. I called to ensure that the guy from the night before had scheduled it. All set. Now just wait.

Wait, I did. And perhaps unsurprisingly, by the end of the 4 hours, no one showed. I called again. “Main office” put me through to “dispatch” who put me through to “branch office” who finally told me that whomever had scheduled the 8-12 timeframe was completely off base. This kind of job isn’t scheduled that way. A manager is needed.

So basically, about 1:30 pm, I learned that I was starting from scratch, with water still sitting underneath my floor, doing what water does when it sits between tight spaces.

It was at that point that I looked out the sliding glass door and something caught my eye. Big, beautiful roses were blooming in the lattices on my deck. In all the house selling madness, I hadn’t realized that the blooming had started. I went outside to take a deep breath and absorbed the sights.

I realized in that moment: you really can find beauty among chaos if you try hard enough, or maybe even if you aren’t trying but are astute enough to recognize it. Maybe it takes a look outside. Maybe you need to remove yourself from your situation. Maybe you ask all the questions and you don’t have all the answers. But at least have hope. Don’t give up. Lord knows these roses never did despite their lack of proper care.

It turns out the leak was very much coming from the concrete slab. It ruined half the flooring in our home. It displaced us for more than a month, all with the added layers of still trying to sell and still trying to buy another home.

If you had asked me at the time whether things would work out, I would have said absolutely not. But somehow, they did. We were still able to sell our house (with brand new flooring!) and buy the next one. And with that, we are off to new adventures and to making new memories.

Somehow, chaos does subside. Until it does, try to find the beauty in it.

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