He continued. “I have found that your foundation， the foundation of your home is cracked， is faulty. Your home， the home you are presently living in， has been built on a broken and faulty foundation.” He scratched his head and said softly， “We have to put in a new foundation， we must start over from the ground up， the entire structure， the entire house， has to go.”
My mind screamed， my identity protested， not my house. Didn’t He understand that I had spent my whole life living in this house？ The walls and the doors were full of memories. It had witnessed my old glory days. It was all I had， it was where I lived. It was my life， it was my precious home. He must surely be mistaken. There must be another way.
“Couldn’t we just get rid of a couple rooms and somehow 10)straighten the house out，” I asked. “No，” he said， “I’m sorry， in order to rebuild your house， we need to lay a new foundation， we need to begin 11)anew.” “But I am comfortable in my house，” I resisted， “I know where everything is. I am used to the way the furniture is， I know my way around all the rooms.”
Suddenly， a realization dawned on me that maybe it was my lack of courage of facing something new which was preventing me from signing the contract to rebuild. Just like when people are used to something， they may not be able to accept something new. I was hesitant， I was resistant， my mind， my body rebelled， but I knew he was right. I knew the time had come to rebuild a house， deep down， a new life.
I stood at the end of my 12)driveway， the road to my new home to be， for a long time， and as I watched the first 13)wrecking ball smash into my old house， I let out a sigh of relief. I was acutely aware of the hard work that lay ahead， of the changes that would be required， but I also knew in my soul that it would be well worth it. As I began to walk up the driveway to my soon to be new home， I heard a loud crash as the wrecking ball struck my old house again， and a small smile broke across my face.