Silly bird. That's what a friend of mine posted in the comment line when I wrote on Facebook a few weeks ago that we would be renting our condo AND buying a house. Silly bird because in all the ways we shuffled our options moving forward this scenario was never among them. And yet it's clearly the one that God had always intended for us. And everything we did to try to further our own agenda, in the end, worked out for our good and his glory because God redeemed those silly steps we took. And made them better. The mistake we made in refinancing our condo only to decide to sell two weeks later. Well, thank ya kindly, because now that we're keeping the place to rent, we're better than well off. The list goes on. The things we were doing and feeling and sorting through that we thought were bringing about a particular outcome months ago all worked toward better things we could never have foreseen. We were silly birds I suppose.
So here we are. Inspections are Sunday. A house is so close I can almost reach out and grab it. We love the gal who is planning on renting our condo. We love the ugly house we bought. It's perfectly dated and perfectly in need of transformation. I lose sleep at night dreaming of the ways I plan on ripping it apart and putting it back together. But all in time.
The last few months have been anything but quiet. Don't let the lack of posts fool you. I go between having too much to post about to wondering if what I would write about is really worth writing at all. So in the chaos of getting our condo ready to pass on to someone else, finding a new home and raising a child...and growing another (Have I mentioned that? We're pregnant!), I've taken a major hiatus from blogging. And there's the part where in an effort to pinch pennies before moving we haven't had Internet since May. That has made blogging a rather precarious endeavor. All that said, come August and come new house and come Google Fiber, I'll be right back here tracking the every nail hole we hammer. Get excited.
In the meantime I'm going to restrain myself from packing too early and try to enjoy the next few weeks of solace before moving. Moving and then soon thereafter waking up every three hours to nurse a newborn. And wipe the bottom of a toddler. And cook dinner. And tear down wallpaper only to hang new. And rip out crown only to install new. And all the while keep a spirit of gratitude and an abiding sense of longing beyond the material things of this world. A longing for the only thing that fulfills. Not for the paint colors and the new countertops. But a longing for the God above me, before me and beside me.
For now we're at the farm. And if we're not careful Annie is going to wreck a car and break a leg. So, I'm off.
