In June of 2007, I placed my home and the office of Sacred Spaces in Anacortes WA up for sale. One of my friends reminded me about the legend of St. Joseph assisting in the sale of homes. According to tradition, you bury a statue of St. Joseph upside down in your home's yard, pray to St. Joseph for 7 days and your home will be sold immediately.

Not wanting to leave any stone unturned in this sale process, I followed instructions with one exception. May 9th I had broken my ankle. Being still mostly immobile, I asked my beloved Philip if he would plant St. Joseph for me while I watched and prayed. He did so, burying a recently purchased statue upside down facing the house in the backyard. The middle of a triangle-shaped flower bed (remember the Trinity?) seemed the perfect place for St. Joseph to do his work.

The weeks and months passed. The housing market plummeted. We did everything the real estate agent asked us to do with regard to painting, sprucing up and staging. Everything about the house "looked" exactly as it should for a fast sale. Nothing happened; not even a nibble.

As January 2008 rolled around and the financial future of the United States continued to look bleak, Philip mentioned that perhaps the reason the St. Joseph statue didn't work was because he had been the one to do the burying. After all, the house belonged to me and, as the owner, I should have been the one to bury St. Joseph, broken ankle or not. I agreed with him and took the ferry from Lopez Island to Anacortes the very next day in order to move St. Joseph and bury him with my own hands.

It was a rainy, windy, and cold winter day when I arrived at my past home and office. I was determined that the weather would not stop me from my appointed duty. Selling my home was an important step in the expansion of Sacred Spaces (and also in the evolution of my personal life). I was not to be deterred.

Standing out in the pouring rain, I dug into the flower bed where I remembered Philip burying the statue. I dug and dug. There was no statue. I made the hole bigger, disrupting even more of the flower bed; still no statue. I dug deeper and larger. St. Joseph was not to be found in the triangle. He had left either by etheric slippage (as I like to call it) or via one of the moles that inhabit the backyard from time to time. (Imagine a St. Joseph shrine under the earth in a little mole hole if you would.) No wonder St. Joseph wasn't selling the house, he wasn't there!

Immediately I got in the car and drove downtown to purchase another statue. Fortunately, the local Christian bookstore was still selling "St. Joseph Helps to Sell Your House" kits complete with statue and prayer card. Driving back to the house through the pouring rain, my determination soared. Now there was a reason for the lack of buyers. St. Joseph had not let me down. He simply needed another chance.

Burying the statue next to the "For Sale" sign felt the perfect place for it this time. I dug a hole and put St. Joseph in head down facing the house. He barely fit in the hole. I spaded out more dirt and tried again. Still, the feet of the statue were even with the top of the hole. I made the hole deeper and bigger. St. Joseph kept his feet at the opening of the hole no matter how deep I dug as if he didn't want to be buried too deep. I acquiesced knowing that he knew much better than I how he wanted to do his work. Covering the statue with dirt and replacing the beauty bark, I wiped the mud off my soaking wet hands and said my prayer. Within the hour, I triumphantly boarded the WA state ferry back to Lopez Island.

The next day I received a call from my real estate broker telling me that we had an offer on the house for nearly the asking price. While in the process of completing my counter-offer (and having it accepted), she called again the next day and told me we had another offer if the first one fell through. For the next few hours, I was busy faxing and signing agreements securing the sale of my home and office to one of two parties.

St. Joseph did his work. He wanted me, as the owner of the house, to bury him with my energy. It was a wonderful lesson in the power of intention. Our frequencies are so important in all that we do. This was a vivid example of how we create with our energy.

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