I wanted to take a moment and thank all of you who left such supportive, inspiring and constructive comments on last Sunday’s post. As I rule I generally turn off comments on the Sabbath and thought I had done so, but alas God had other plans. :)
Over the past few months I have received a few emails that questioned why I have shared my difficulties so openly. Believe me when I say “You don’t even know the half of it”.
But back in January a nagging voice, also known as the conscience, holy spirit or inner Jiminy Cricket kept telling me to write it down. After much hemming and hawing I complied as much as I felt I could.
I’ve learned that for every comment left on the blog, visible to see, there are two more to match it that arrive via my email inbox, Facebook page and Etsy message center that the public will never view.
What I know for sure is that:
People are hurting.
Some people have lost their hope.
I know that I am blessed because even in the darkest hour I knew there would eventually come a day in which a rainbow appeared followed by peeks of bright sunshine. It is coming. I can feel it.
In sharing my brokenness, I also get to share the blessedness.
That my be just enough hope for someone to make it through another day.
The idiom “the eleventh hour” means “at the last possible time, just before the absolute deadline, almost too late”.
We’ve all been there. As a rule, I try to avoid it at all costs. But, there are some things in life that we cannot control.
I currently live in a HOA community. The rules are both good and bad. One rule is that community wide garage sales are held four times a year. They are never held when it is convenient for the homeowner. I myself needed to be spending every free moment looking for a home (since you know how that was going) versus preparing for a garage sale.
But since I would soon be moving and needed to lighten the load, on Friday morning I set up my tables of treasures that were looking for a new home. My good friend and neighbor joined me. People forked over their quarters and left happy. It was almost a festive occasion.
By 11 am the Phoenix sun had begun to blaze down mercilessly and we shut down.
As I stepped inside the cool space the phone rang. It was the realtor. Mr. Décor and I had signed the paperwork turning over our home to its new owners. I was informed that it would soon be time to vacate the premises.
“You have until July.”
“Thank you for letting me know, we will be ready” I said.
My voice did not betray me. But my mind and heart did.
As I hung up I felt lightheaded.
I went to my office and slumped down at my desk.
My head rested heavily in my hands.
“Woman Sitting on a Basket with Head in Hands” ~ Vincent Van Gogh, 1883
After a moment I raised my head and began uploading the MRLS listing of homes. I wondered why I was bothering to check at all.
There had been only one potential home listed all week. I had driven by it and continued up the street. Upon turning the corner and passing by a park I witnessed a drug deal going down. In broad daylight. Obviously this was not the house for me and my family.
But now, at the top of the list, was a home that had been placed on the site a mere two minutes before. It was in a neighborhood I liked. It was listed for a price we could afford. I clicked on the details. As I read the information I tried not to get excited. But that is who I am. Then I clicked on the photos expecting to see horror. Instead it showed a home with fantastic bones. I could see it.
Knowing the rapidness of the market I grabbed my phone and texted my realtor “MAYDAY! MAYDAY! There is a house….”
He texted back immediately. “It looks good. This is a nice neighborhood, good schools. A bit overpriced, but in this market…”
I replied “I am getting in the car to drive by the house, is it possible to get the paperwork ready and I will come by to pick it up and get my husband to sign?”
“For a bid?”
“Without seeing it first?”
“Yes. I am playing investor hardball. This time I plan to beat them at their game.”
I then called Mr. Décor and explained the method to my madness. Luckily, he trusts my judgment.
We placed a bid, site unseen, and asked that they make a decision that same evening. I didn’t even want this house up for weekend viewing.
The realtor called a short time later. “We can see the house at 4 pm.”
“I’ll be there.”
A man in his early 70’s greeted us at the door. It was obvious he loved the house.
He also loved to talk.
Even though I was chomping at the bit and sweating bullets to find my family a home I quietly and patiently listened.
As always, if you talk long enough, you can find something in common with everyone.
He took me on the tour and in great detail shared with me all he had done to the property, when he had done it, who the neighbors were….
I let him go on and on. I sincerely nodded and smiled. Filing away the awesome information as fast as I could.
I shared with him that I had been looking for a home for my family for weeks. We had bid and lost, bid and lost. I told him how the investors outbid us every time. It was the 11th inning, the bases were loaded and I needed an impossible HOME run.
My realtor scowled a bit. He did not want me reminding the gentleman that he could perhaps get a bidding war if he wanted one.
The owner shared his retirement dreams. They were far away from the heat of Phoenix. He wanted to go now.
I said, “Time is short. You should live your dreams. I love your home. I can see how beautifully you have treated it. It feels peaceful. A place where I would want my kids to live. Thank you for showing it to me.”
We left. I waited by the phone all evening. I was nowhere near this calm.
It finally rang. Two minutes later I was bawling like a baby.
Only God would finalize the loss of one home and present a new home all on the same day.
I told Him that I found His sense of timing nerve wracking and BEAUTIFUL.
The heart of the home is here. Can you see it?
Is it my dream home? No, that still awaits me and I try to keep my eyes on that prize. But it is a wonderful, temporary gift that I will lovingly transform and treasure for the time being.
“In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.” John 14:2