I don’t outright talk about religion here–even though it is a HUGE part of my personal life–because I feel like it is something vastly personal and I never want any friends to feel excluded because their beliefs do not match my own. But since my word for this year is FAITH, I am going to share a few posts about how things are going with my word–and that means I am going to share some very personal, vulnerable aspects of my own faith and the journey I’ve been on this year. I hope that instead of feeling excluded or triggered, you can see your own personal journey in what I share and look for our commonality. If you are currently in a place where religion makes you feel offended or upset, you might want to pass on this series. My goal is to share in hopes that it helps bring joy and hope to your life. If you are not in a place where you feel open to someone else’s perspective on faith, this will be here if and when you are ever interested in the future.
So far I’ve told you about our puppy, the leap of faith to sell our house, and the sure thing that turned out to be a completely unsure thing.
When we began our house hunt, we were pretty clueless. In our defense, it had been 15 years since we’d purchased our home, so we were very out of practice. Plus, I think we were still a bit shellshocked by thinking we had a plan in place only to learn that we had run out beyond the cliff and were now falling, falling, falling Wile E. Coyote style. But in the spirit of moving forward, we began our search by looking for a home with a bit more space, a yard (my husband really wanted a pool, but we soon recognized that the pool may not happen…), and located closer to where my husband works. But as the weeks of searching continued, we began to notice that some fantastic houses that seemed to fit all of our criteria just didn’t feel right. We felt drawn to a very particular area. My husband felt the pull even stronger than I did and he had it narrowed down to particular schools. And here is where another aspect of my faith needed to grow.
You know how sometimes you just expect other people to believe you even when they have nothing to go off of? Just because you said so? Well, I expect that. And I’d like to think that usually people believe me because they know me and know I don’t go around lying to folks.
Well, this time, it was my turn to believe my husband–my best friend, my soulmate, my other half–even when I didn’t feel the same zeal. Don’t get me wrong: I didn’t feel like his impression was wrong, I just didn’t feel it as strongly and as specifically as he did. There was probably a great deal of fear in my way. But I knew I needed to trust him and trust that he was listening, too. When we first moved to Houston, I had been the one to have the strong feelings about moving here and he trusted me. And he never complained or doubted. Now it was my turn to trust him.
So we told our realtor that we only wanted to look at houses that fit our criteria within this new, smaller area. And it felt sort of like when you cinch your belt a notch or two too tight–at least that’s how it felt for me. We scoured the realty sites day and night. Sometimes Zillow would show a listing first, sometimes Realtor.com, sometimes HAR.com, so we just kept checking them all. All day. Every day. I jumped at any text from our realtor. Let’s just say my screen time was up.
Our realtor said, “Maybe you should write a letter to the seller that we could include when we submit an offer.” I didn’t like the idea at first. I wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone. I wanted someone to sell us their house because we made a fair offer and because they felt good about it. Plus, nothing was coming available in the little patch of area we were searching. So I shrugged off her advice at first. But early one morning, I felt a distinct impression that I was supposed to get up right then (my alarm hadn’t even gone off yet!) and write a letter to the seller of our future home. So, I did. At that point, we had no prospects on the market, but I trusted that if I was feeling this so strongly, it would be important later. I wrote about our family. I figured that since we cared who bought our house and we ran all the names of the people who offered on our house by our neighbor and talked with him before we accepted an offer, the sellers of our future home might care about their neighbors, too. I hoped they would anyway.
Then we wondered if we should include a photo. Our realtor at first said, “Yes! Your family is beautiful! Include a photo!” But I told her I wasn’t sure because some people are not accepting of a mixed-race family and I wondered if including a photo would hurt our chances. In the end, I decided that if the home owners weren’t accepting of our mixed-race family, chances would be good that the neighborhood wasn’t where we wanted to be anyway. Less than a week later, we sent that letter and our first offer to a home that didn’t have the yard we were hoping for, but it had great space inside and was across the street from an excellent elementary school and it was zoned to the junior high and high school that my husband had felt so strongly about. And even though the neighbors weren’t friendly at all and nobody waved back when we waved, we submitted a pretty strong offer and our letter and I held my breath. We waited. And things were looking pretty good for us. We thought we knew where we’d be going and we started thinking about paint colors (it definitely needed new paint colors) and wondered what school traffic would do to the noise level each morning and afternoon. But then someone came in with an all-cash offer and the house was theirs.
That first time was pretty discouraging. We had looked at so many houses and felt like we had offered a pretty strong offer and even though we didn’t feel like it was the perfect house, we were so ready to be done with this search already so we could start preparing for what was to come next. Instead, we felt like we’d been knocked back to square one again. And the calendar was moving closer and closer to the day we’d close on the sale of our house.
At this point, our kids started lots of sentences with the phrase, “Hey, Mom, when we’re homeless…” and even though I knew that we had friends and family who would take us in and that we would never be on-the-street homeless, I began to feel like I was failing my kids. Like I was pulling their foundations out from under them and I wondered if I had missed something. I mean, I knew that each step had felt like the next right thing, but I didn’t think that they led to homelessness. I didn’t think that God intended that for us when He put us on this path. Doesn’t this seem to happen a lot? We think we know the outcome when we begin the path, only to doubt when things look differently than we expected.
But I had to quiet those voices of insecurity in my mind. I was growing my faith. Those moments of panic came regularly throughout each day and I would have to stop myself and remind myself–again and again–that I trusted Him. I knew that we were doing what He wanted us to do and I knew that He would take care of everything in the end. It was exhausting. But I knew it. I just needed to keep reminding myself. Kind of like how my son learned his multiplication facts during our homeschool year together last year, but we still did practice drills and worksheets to keep them fresh in his mind. I knew the Lord was looking out for me. I knew we were doing what He told us to do. But I needed reminders–drills–to keep my faith strong and in the forefront of my mind.
I kept thinking that if I could give my children any sort of legacy, I would want that legacy to be one of faith. If I could equip them with one thing that would give them success throughout the remainder of their existence, it would be faith. Because faith can get us through anything. Faith makes discouragement and disappointment dissolve. Faith helps us to trust the Lord when life feels impossible. And I want that for my children. So I stayed very open with them about our journey. I told them that with this market and the few houses that were for sale and the steep competition in buying those few houses, it would be a miracle when we got a house. I knew that it would take a miracle in this market. But I also told them that I knew that miracles happen. And I knew that if we kept trusting in Him, God would send our miracle when the time was right for us. And I hoped that this experience would help grow their faith, too.
We kept searching.
