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Etched in my memory is the day the well pump in my basement broke and I frantically called Mr. Peterscheim. His company drilled the well on the property where we had our house built. The pump lasted thirty-three years. What does that have to do with counseling or pastoring a church? Bear with me for a brief explanation. Mr. Peterscheim directed me to take a long garden hose, attach it to the pump tank, and run it out a basement window and then fifty feet down the backyard. I was then to turn a knob and let the water run for several hours. I took a deep breath and replied, “Sir, I cannot do that.” After living alone in my home for twelve years following my husband’s death, that was the tipping point at which I decided to move out. Mr. Peterscheim, you pushed me over the edge. I am glad you did, but it’s been a hard landing. Many other factors influenced my decision to move, but that day I reactivated with gusto my search for future housing.
Now I am living in a beautiful retirement community. I waited for three years before this space became available. But, I am struggling. I feel like an ingrate and a slightly crazy person who just can’t seem to adjust to life here. I did my homework and collected information on senior housing. My son has been working in the senior housing industry for thirty years. He was a big help, but he’s never been a resident. I’ve never had difficulty making friends — until now. I came with a sense of adventure, but often find myself tucked away alone in my cottage. Until very recently, I had a terrible case of homesickness that could rival any kid at summer camp.
I searched for...
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