We Did It!

It took a little over a year for this project to get underway. Mike and I are novices when it comes to remodeling our home in Santa Barbara. Through so many trials and tears (mine), we finally picked the right contractor, started the work in late August, and on the Fourth of July, the project was complete.

She’s 70 Years Old

This home has been in our hands since 1988 and was built in the early 1950s. We have always used it as a rental. While our son Mikos was attending Westmont College, this was his home. He, along with two roommates and several dogs, occupied the house. Needless to say, it was well lived-in and much neglected.

The Fire

During the time Mikos was living there, the most unthinkable thing happened — the house caught on fire. Soon after, the worst rainstorm Santa Barbara had experienced in 50 years swept through. We filed two insurance claims, and this became our one opportunity to do a cosmetic remodel. Some of the windows were replaced and a new roof was added.

You can read about the fire in this blog: “The Santa Barbara House Fire.”

Eighteen-Year Tenants

For the last 18 years, a family had called our home their own. A family of four, they had long since outgrown the two-bedroom, one-bath cottage. When they graciously gave their notice, we knew it was time to do some remodeling.

To the Bones

What we did not realize was how quickly the project would take on a life of its own. Stripping the cottage down to the studs revealed her age — she desperately needed all-new electrical wiring, which was never in the budget. The Little Yellow House also needed a new roof. It was a Pandora’s box of surprises. The plumbing added yet another layer of unexpected expense. At every turn, we could hear cha-ching! We were not prepared for this adventure.

Kathy and Sean

Our contractors were a godsend. They are the owners of 805 Flooring in Santa Barbara and, together, knew exactly what we envisioned — guiding us every step of the way. More than anything, I wanted yellow kitchen cabinets, but custom-built cabinetry made that option out of reach. So Kathy and I decided instead to paint the French doors a butter yellow. From there, I also wanted a Dutch door — and again, Kathy had the perfect solution: customize the existing front door and paint it to match. Our original front door, easily 20-something years old, got a major facelift. It was sawed in half and transformed into a beautiful yellow Dutch door.

Kathy helped with so many details — lighting, bathroom sinks, mirrors, and tile for both bathrooms. She wears many hats, and one added bonus is her natural eye for design. Logistically, it was nearly impossible for us to weigh in on every decision from a distance, so we trusted Kathy to curate the options. My only directive was to keep it feeling like a cottage by the sea — colors that echoed the sun and the water.

The Second Bathroom

This was my top priority — something I fought for every step of the way. I cannot tell you how many prayers went up for this to be accomplished. Mike wanted it too, but struggled with fitting it into the budget. In the end, we reached a happy compromise and were able to add it to phase two of the project.

The Furniture

It pays to be a hoarder. Back in the 1980s, we purchased a beautiful brass bed. When we eventually upgraded to a new bed, I asked Mike to store the brass one in the garage — where it sat for over 25 years. We cleaned it up, and it found new life as the centerpiece of one of the guest bedrooms.

An antique dresser from my home in Orange now sits alongside the brass bed, and together they make for a cozy, welcoming space.

We did purchase all new mattresses as well. Nightstands were ordered from Amazon — which Mike had to assemble — along with the coffee table and bar stools. This past weekend, however, I ordered what I believed to be a tall, slender cabinet. The photo on Amazon showed it styled with rolled bath towels and large bottles of hair shampoo. I was very wrong. It is so tiny it could fit in a dollhouse. Next time, check the measurements first!

The Drives

The road to Santa Barbara always started the same way: with a prayer. There is no counting how many trips we made to Santa Barbara during this time. All that can be said is that it was a genuine sacrifice. Getting up at 4:30 a.m. to beat the L.A. traffic was no small thing — though, if truth be told, it was easier for me than for poor Mike, who drove the entire way up and back. Shamefully, I did my share of complaining: I’m so tired. I’m hungry. I need to use the restroom. Mike, on the other hand, was as gracious as could be — but he had one rule.

The Restroom Rule

Mike’s rule was simple: one stop only, and it could not be in Los Angeles. Why? Because no one in that city will let you use their facilities. If nature called before we cleared the city, it had to wait until Calabasas. And he was absolutely right. The restrooms in Los Angeles are a battle in themselves — attendants are unhelpful and will turn you away with lame excuses like out of order. Needless to say, that lesson was learned the hard way.

The Celebration

When we arrived on Friday, we got straight to work preparing the house. Every pillow received a protective covering, and the last bedroom was made up — you guessed it — with a butter yellow bedspread from Amazon. A few repurposed pillows later, it was done. The sofa was finally delivered, and it was time to celebrate.

Of course, Mike made dinner reservations. To be clear, it is not that thoughtfulness is beyond reach — it simply is not a natural gift.

Chuck’s of Hawaii turned out to be one of the best meals we have had in Santa Barbara. A cocktail of choice is usually a screwdriver, but this was a Hawaiian restaurant — so a Mai Tai seemed only right. There must be something in the water in this town, because between Joe’s Café and Chuck’s of Hawaii, the drinks have a way of catching you off guard. One was all it took. From there, the evening was pure joy, the food rich with the bold flavors of Hawaii. Let’s just say that when it comes to alcohol, one drink is more than enough!

My Prayer

Dear Lord, thank You for being part of every step of this project. Without You in our daily lives, there is no telling where we would be. Through all the tears and disagreements, we made it — and we are forever grateful. Grant us wisdom in how to care for our Little Yellow House. Amen.

Saturday’s weather could not have been more perfect for celebrating my friend Kent.

Worship

We met at Christ in You, a lay Catholic ministry. Kent was not Catholic, but he loved the teachings. Our group was made up of mostly Catholics, with a sprinkling of Protestant brothers and sisters. We were filled with the Spirit of God, and our worship differed from that of a typical Catholic service. “The worship singing brings down the anointing,” said Joanne, the ministry leader.

I did feel the power of the Holy Spirit fill our small gatherings. We were in one accord, praising the Lord — my hands lifted high, giving Him praise. My Sundays would begin with Mass, and later that evening we would meet with the lay group. Kent was always there.

Wednesday Meetings

If Sunday was not enough, we also gathered for a Bible teaching on Wednesdays. The worship followed the same pattern: powerful praise music, followed by a lesson on the Word of God. I was a lot younger then — four-hour services were the norm. Looking back, it’s difficult to explain the hold this ministry had on me. One key reason was that the teachings were rich with Biblical knowledge, seasoned with Catholic doctrine. I was definitely growing in the Lord.

Birthday Twins

Kent and I shared the same birthday. So, a few days before August 6th, there was sure to be in the mail a lovely birthday card from Kent. In the last couple of years, he decided to create his own cards — one Scripture after another, followed by a special blessing. I will miss all the seasonal cards he sent, especially around Christmas.

Kent the Genius

This blog was edited by Kent for a period of time. This came to an end when I could no longer email the blog to him, as something went amiss with his computer.

He quoted Scripture and truly understood the Word of God. If you had a math problem, Kent would solve it in a heartbeat. I knew he had received a Bachelor’s degree in mathematics from UCLA, but it was not until the funeral that I became aware he also held a Master’s in accounting.

The many times he accompanied us in handing out lunches on Skid Row in Los Angeles, he knew his way around L.A. better than anyone. Our conversations were filled with the wealth of knowledge Kent so generously offered.

I live in the city of Orange, near Tustin St., a main thoroughfare in the city. For as long as I can remember, I had always known it as Tustin Ave. Kent, without even living in Orange, corrected me one day. He was keenly aware of his surroundings and knowledgeable about so many subjects.

The Birthday Celebration

A few years ago, Kent and I met to celebrate our birthdays. He shared that he was tithing to many different organizations — political, Christian, you name it — Kent was donating money across the board. “How much are you giving, Kent?” I asked. I could not believe his response; he was more than generous. I advised him to pick three organizations, to pray before giving, and then to tithe accordingly.

The Funeral

Walking into the service as the praise song Majesty filled the room took me back to my days at Christ in You. Joanne was right — the room was filled with a powerful anointing. Oh, how I wanted to lift my hands in praise, but for some reason I cannot fully explain, I started to cry. My tears were of joy for my friend Kent. So many people came to send him off to heaven, and that song brought so many memories of him flooding back to my heart.

Five speakers in all, each with a unique story to share about Kent. The pastor shared that he had saved all of Kent’s phone messages. He played one in which Kent was singing a Psalm in cappella — Kent was not a gifted singer, but he was a gifted musician. He played the piano and had a remarkable ear for tuning one. His true instrument, however, was the accordion.

We were all aware of Kent’s medical disabilities, which began early in life and affected his speech. Kent also suffered from schizophrenia — yet not one of the speakers mentioned any of his challenges. Why? Because they knew Kent’s heart, and they loved and received him just as Jesus would.

The Phone Calls

Without fail, once a month I would receive a call from Kent. “Just wanted to know how you’re doing — and is (name withheld) still fornicating with her boyfriend?” That was Kent: honest and bold. Kent meant nothing unkind by this; he simply stated the truth. He always did.

When the young lady in question finally got married, one of the first things I did was call Kent with the news. There was great excitement in his voice. I will miss those phone calls.

Biola University

Since the funeral was held in La Mirada — a stone’s throw away from my alma mater — I decided to visit my old stomping grounds. I graduated in 1997, and boy, have things changed. The campus is still as beautiful as I remember. The main reason for the visit was to stand before the mural of Jesus. It took me a while to work my way to the grandiose image of Christ. Once there, I needed a photo. A young man was exiting the cafeteria, coffee in hand.

“Excuse me, can you please take a photo of me?” “Of course,” he said with a foreign accent.

George

Sometimes, through the providence of God, we are meant to meet certain people. This young man’s name is George, from Zimbabwe. He is a student at Biola and has earned his PhD in Cultural Studies. He is also a missionary. We talked, and he shared that in his tiny village, two wells had recently been installed. He mentioned that a Catholic priest had help organize the placement of the wells. George is Protestant — yet together with the Catholics, a spirit of unity prevailed for the sake of the village’s much-needed water supply.

My Prayer

Dear Lord, thank You for the life of Your son Kent. May he rest in eternal peace. Heavenly Father, thank You for the beautiful praise music, and especially for the closing hymn, How Great Thou Art. You are an awesome wonder to all who serve You. Lord, help George to complete his studies and supply every need of his village. Amen.