Last spring, we started to feel restless. We were coming up on the third anniversary of our current apartment, which was the longest stretch of time we'd lived anywhere since being married. And if we were going to bother moving, why not try to get into a modest house? The market was so very appealing. But could we qualify?
Within a few short weeks, we looked around in surprise at our situation. We were making an offer on a darling bungalow in Minneapolis. A few days later, our offer was accepted! We were thrilled. The next step was the inspection. We scheduled it, I picked up paint chips at Menards and started dreaming.
We had scarcely blinked when another property popped up and we signaled to our realtor that we'd like to see it. She obligingly met us, opened a shiny red door to another bungalow, same neighborhood, more space, and much better shape. Wow! And when the inspection rolled around, our trusty Al found much less to complain about. The house had good bones. We hardly expected to get the house, but we made an offer, beat our at least 8 other people in an auction! Now we just needed financing. After three weeks of agonized waiting, we found out that the bank did not think the house was worth what we offered – but rather much lower. $20,000 lower. Our hearts sank into our boots. We had gotten so far on this one.
These trials and joys surrounding our search for a house have been difficult, but they have been so good. How can the bad be so good? Because with each step – whether the ground holds firm or wobbles and crumbles when we put our weight on it – the Lord holds us near and we depend on Him. In Psalm 37, the poet says: “Trust in the LORD and do good; Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness. Delight yourself in the LORD; And He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD, Trust also in Him, and He will do it.” Do I believe that? More so now than ever.
Today was to be our closing date on the second home. Instead, we are packing up boxes to put in temporary storage. In a few days, we shall be - as the French delicately put it -“sans domicile fixe” (without a permanent address) and staying with generous family members (we love you!). The past week has been quite the mental and emotional ordeal. The door has closed...and we're not inside of it!
Nonetheless. We are not truly homeless.
Regardless of what happens with where we live, I can say without reserve, with the Psalmist: “The LORD is the portion of my inheritance and my cup; You support my lot.The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me.”