To celebrate our ten year anniversary, we are inviting former writers back to tpc to hear what they’ve been thinking about since leaving the post calvin. Today, please welcome back Cassie Westrate. Cassie (‘14) lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she works in marketing and communications for a nonprofit. She likes sitting on front porches and going for walks with her (almost) husband Matt and her (their) dog Kacee.
I’m moving out of my house this fall.
I love my house. It’s nearly a hundred years old and painted yellow with white trim. It has a yard and front porch. There’s no dishwasher, but the sink is by the window. (The window is a little too big. The sink countertops are about three inches shorter than the other countertops to accommodate this window.)
Buying my house felt like a miracle, and it all still feels so magical to me. When I talked with my lender, he started the conversation by asking, “Why do you want a house?”
And I said something like rent is too high. I managed to save enough for a small down payment. I’m getting older and how else am I supposed to build wealth in this country? A yard would be nice. But I also told him I lived in a tiny apartment, and during Covid, I needed to replace my small table with a desk.
It felt like Covid changed so much in life: who I spend time with, where I open my laptop for work, how I’m not really part of a church anymore. It’s hard to lose so much in a short amount of time, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’m finished grieving it all. It can be terrifying trying to invite people in when you’re still wondering why so many people disappeared from your life in the first place.
I wanted a table again. I wanted space to welcome people in again. I wanted to live somewhere that felt like home again.
Shortly after I started looking at houses, I met Matt. Matt is the best human I know—my absolute favorite in the world. He’s the most hospitable person I know. Until I met him, I didn’t know it was possible for someone to make you feel at home in a place that isn’t their own. Matt can make you feel at home in his kitchen and on his front porch, but also in his friends’ homes, walking down the street, and in parking lots and gas stations. He’s intentional and warm and kind and gracious.
He quickly began to feel more like home to me than any house, no matter the color of the walls and trim, no matter how many rooms, no matter how big the table is.
When I move out of my house in six weeks, I’ll miss it. I’ll miss the old windows in the dining room and the sunlight in my office. I’ll miss the scuffed-up oak floors and trees in the backyard. I might even miss leaning over a little too far to wash the dishes. I hope whoever lives in this house next loves it as much as I do.
But now that Covid cases are down and life is back to a sort of normal, I realize that while the pandemic was an abrupt disruption, things still constantly change. I’ve heard the cliche that “the only thing constant in life is change,” but never really understood it until now. People move, they get married, they have children. I guess some things in life are only for a season, and the remaining things all have different seasons to them too.
And so I’m trying to navigate change in life with more grace. I’m a little naive, so it feels like sadness shouldn’t belong in this season of life, but it’s here. And I think that’s okay. Because I’m also happy and excited and overwhelmingly thankful.
I love my house, and having a table again was nice, but I remember now that I never really needed it all. Matt and friends and family members used to come over to my apartment and curl up on my worn couch, sit on the old carpet, or lean against the rusting railing of my balcony. I had what I had to offer, and that was enough.
If you are a former writer and interested in contributing this year, email info@thepostcalvin.com
Cassie Westrate (’14) graduated with a double major in writing and international development studies. She currently lives in West Michigan, where she works as a writer, hangs out with her pet bird, and fights crime by night. Just kidding about the crime.
