“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.” — Melody Beattie

How do you say goodbye to a home you’ve loved?

Waving fondly from the car window wasn’t going to cut it for Lauren Grogan. “I wanted something tactile and symbolic. I didn’t want it to just be words!” she explained to me on Friday.‍

Lauren and her husband Michael Plank are two of my favorite spiritual innovators. They lead a rural Presbyterian congregation north of Albany, New York—while also co-founding a CrossFit gym. So cool.

Their old home, which belonged to the church, is steeped in history. Every pastor since 1928 has lived in this house. A covert interracial wedding took place in the library in the 50s. There’s even kids graffiti in the garage from 1939. Lauren and Michael loved this place. But it was time for their family to put down roots in a bigger space as their two kids grow up.

“The fireplaces in the old house on Maple Street were magical,” explained Lauren. “I knew saying goodbye would involve the fireplaces somehow. There’s something so primal and essential to our humanness about fire. I knew we needed to have one last fire.

So, after the endless packing was finally done, and there really was nothing left to do except feel sad, Lauren took a shower, fed the family, and took everyone back to the old house one last time. She packed champagne and a fire shovel.

First, she took her husband and kids around the whole property and to each of the rooms in the house.

“We walked around and told stories,” she shares. “‘I remember this’, and ‘this is where that happened.’ Harvey is ten now and I learned totally new things about him! We went to the kids’ room and he told us, ‘when I couldn’t sleep, I would run my fingers over these bumps in the wall.’ And I knew exactly what he meant—I did the same thing when I was little!”

After walking through all of the rooms, Lauren and her family gathered around the fireplace to build one last fire. They burned old decorations that they’d put up in the kitchen for a taco party seven years ago and never taken down. “That’s kinda the person I am…” she laughs. “They were greasy and burned great!”

“We talked about singing songs but really struggled to find a song".” That was until Harvey suggested a household favorite, Family Tree by Hudson Valley singer-songwriter Tom Chapin. They sang together and looked into the flames. Champagne was sipped. And together they remembered the life they had shared in this place.

As the fire died down, Lauren took out her shovel and performed the final goodbye ritual.

Each member of the family shoveled embers from the dying fire and put them in a metal bucket. “We scooped up that fire and took the coals to our new house.” There, they used the very same coals to light a fire in their new backyard fire spot.

Earth to earth. Fire to fire.

Lauren had to say goodbye to her home. But she brought her hearth with her. And her hearth made this new house a home.

“I just knew it. I felt it in my body. This is the way. This is the tactile ritual that is going to transition us.”

And it did.