Home Sweet Home

This past Monday, our sale officially closed, and this house, became ours.

Our very first home. All our own. No more rent checks, no more landlords.

Of course, that means that when the plumbing decides to act up, or there's a rat in the attic at 3am (heaven forbid), there is also no landlord to call to come deal with it. But, there is such a sense of pride and satisfaction in owning our own house.

The week before we found this house, there was another one we thought we wanted. We had been working with a Realtor at the time, and it was the nicest home we'd seen up to that point (read: no appliances had been ripped out and there were no domestic violence-esque holes in doors). Also, it appeared to be in a really nice neighborhood, something else we had not found. We decided it was as good as we were going to be able to find, even though it was a bit more than we originally wanted to pay. We told our Realtor on Saturday that we wanted to make an offer. He told us he would draw up the papers, and we could officially make an offer that Thursday - oh, and to bring a $5,000 check with us as earnest money deposit. Now, I'm not going to get into specifics of our finances and whatnot, but we are a single-income family, with two kids, one on the way. We don't have very much in the way of disposable income, so when the Realtor said "Five thousand dollars", I literally almost started laughing. I thought for sure he had to be kidding. He knew we were looking to go with a VA loan - no money down, and $5,000 sounded as good as a down payment in my mind.

Richard and I exchanged awkward glances, telepathically asking each other, Is this guy serious?

The guy shifted, and said, "Okay, at least a thousand then."

Another awkward exchange of glances.

The realtor raised his eyebrows, "You have to show them that you're serious about buying, you have to give them something."

We promised to arrive on Thursday with a $1,000 check, although neither one of us knew where we were going to find that money over the next five days.

During the drive home, our excitement over having just made our first offer on a house faded into uncertainty and frustration. We began to feel that maybe we just weren't able to buy a home; maybe this was something that was still very much out of reach for our young family at this time. By the time we got home, 45 minutes later, I wrote an email to our realtor telling him we had changed our mind on the offer, and that we just didn't think we could buy a home now. Essentially, we broke up with him.

The following weekend my parents had been driving around, when they came across a house that was for sale by owner. They got a flier, spoke briefly to the sellers, whom they said were super friendly, and then they passed the information along to us. We thought the flier looked great, although we were still feeling very skeptical from the brief house hunting experience we'd had. The next day we went to check it out, and, as they say, the rest is history.

Looking back now, I am so glad we didn't stick with that first house. Aside from the financial issues we were faced with up front, I realize now that we were going to sacrifice a lot. The house was a good 35 minutes from the school Jacob now goes to. So either I would have had to change and dress three little kids four mornings a week, to get Jacob to school on time, or he would have had to change districts, which we really did not want to do, since the one he is in has such a fantastic reputation. Also, the backyard of that house, while gated, left much to be desired. It was quite small, without much of a yard to speak of at all. The inside of the house was nice enough, but there wasn't any sort of designated playroom, and the family room wouldn't have accommodated all of their toys, plus our furniture. And, to top it off, we were going to pay way over our budget for the house, that, in hindsight, was just so-so.

The house we ended up purchasing? It's perfect, if I may say so. I have so many visions for this house. The backyard, in particular. I think our boys will love spending long summer days out in the fenced yard running, playing, chasing, rough housing, imagining. It is the perfect yard for kids. There is already a swingset, and I would like to add a slide onto it. There is also a seriously awesome tree, that is pretty wide with a low center - the perfect kind of tree for a tree house of some sort, so we are going to get to work building something like that next summer. There is a large deck, which I envision us having barbecues and drinks on while we watch the kids run around in the grass. I am so beyond thrilled about our new home, it really has all of the things that we wanted when we first set out on the house hunt a few months ago. And it was just too ironic that within days of us becoming discouraged, and believing there was no way we could afford a home, we found the one that met all of our needs, and was within our budget. I firmly believe God had his hand on us, guiding us to that house, knowing it was the perfect one for us and our three boys.

Now all that's left to do is pack up our things and prepare for the big move!

10 Years Later

On September 11th, 2001, I was addicted to my No Doubt Return of Saturn CD. I had it on repeat in my car; I didn't bother turning on the radio on the way to school. It was the second week of my senior year of high school. Life was simple.

I made my way to the building where my first class was, probably around 7:40 in the morning. I saw a group of people huddled around a TV. I realized that something was happening, but had no clue what. Our teacher let us watch the news for maybe 15 minutes, before forcing us to our studies. I remember that whole day was filled with lots of questions, and confusion, until I got home and was able to really get caught up on the horror of what had unfolded earlier that morning in New York, Washington D.C., and Pennsylvania.

I was a 17 year old girl. 

So naive. 

I clearly remember thinking on the afternoon of the attacks, that we would never know who was responsible for them. At that time, I knew nothing of terrorists, or Al Qaeda. I equated the acts of 9/11 with murder, and in my mind, murderers usually try to hide who they are, to save their own skin. It was beyond my comprehension that anyone would actually claim responsibility or take credit for the villainous acts of that day. 

How my eyes were opened.

I was at an age where I was old enough to fully comprehend what had happened, and how terribly tragic it was. At the same time though, it was my first real exposure to anything so horrific. It was jarring.

So much death. So much loss.

I was beginning my senior year of high school; was this the world I was about to enter as an adult? Because I wanted none of it.

I can never stand up and say that my life was personally affected by what happened on September 11th, 2001. I didn't lose any loved ones, I didn't even know anyone who lived on the east coast at that time.  I know that the significance of that day to me, is eclipsed by the thousands and thousands of families and friends who did lose close ones on 9/11.

Yet, the words 9/11 will always feel like a bruise on my heart. Our country was irrevocably changed that day, and I think that most Americans share my sentiments toward it. Even if we weren't affected personally, we still take that attack personally, as U.S. citizens. And I believe it is something that will be hard for those to understand who did not live through it - my children, for instance. September 11th will simply be something they learn about in history class - it will be far away - removed from them. 

The day after the attacks, a beloved middle school teacher of mine died in a plane crash while on vacation in Mexico. The news was an added assault to the fragile state that I, and many of my classmates were in. To our young minds, it seemed the world was suddenly filled with evil and injustice. Good people die, and bad people triumph? I couldn't make sense of it.

The afternoon of September 12th, I sat in our back yard, in the sunshine. It was such a beautiful day, but it felt so wrong. It was as if someone forgot to tell the sun not shine; too many people were hurting.

My dad came outside, and started talking to me. I think he could see that I was hurt, afraid, and confused. After a while, he picked a rose from our yard, a lovely shade of pink. He handed it to me, and said, "This is something beautiful that God has made. There is still beauty in the world, and you need to hold on to that."

I have never forgotten what he said. There is pain in life, this is something that I have learned tenfold since that day ten years ago; but beauty does remain. Good remains. Oftentimes it is right in front of us, we just need to open our eyes to see it.

My heart will always break when I think of September 11th, 2001. So many dreams never reached, so many innocents taken from this earth, so many lives forever changed.

One lesson stands out though: that life is short. So very short. I try to hug my children a little longer (when they let me), and memorize how their faces look as they lay sleeping in their beds at night. Every day I kiss my husband, and tell him that I love him before he leaves for work in the morning. None of us know which day will be our last. No one can change the events of 10 years ago, and no one can prevent whatever tragedies may lay ahead. But I try to to hold onto faith and hope, and believe that through it all there is still goodness in the world.

Love your family, hold them tight. Enjoy every beautiful moment with them.

Faith

I got a message on Facebook the other day from a friend's ex-boyfriend. He was writing to ask about my friend, but I guess he had been looking at my profile, and he saw what my religious beliefs are, and he started his message like this:

"WOW! I had no idea you are Christian, that's cool. I like Jesus too..." And then he continued with his message.

I thought that was a weird thing to say, and I responded by telling him that, yes, I am a Christian, and have been my whole life. Rather than just moving on, he responded with:

"No, seriously, I had no idea that you were a Christian. I guess we never really talked very much though, and all I knew about you was from what my ex-girlfriend told me about you."

So at that point I was feeling pretty offended. No, seriously, I had no idea you were a Christian?? The way he wrote it was almost like a kick in the gut. I started thinking, well what exactly did I do that made him think I wasn't a Christian? And all he knew about me was from what his ex, (my so-called friend), told him, so what exactly was SHE saying about me? 

I have made many mistakes in my life, I know that I am far from perfect. Regardless, it got me thinking about my actions in public, and how strangers or even just acquaintances perceive me. If everyone I knew were given a pop quiz on me today, would they think I am a Christian?

I will be the first to admit that my relationship with Christ is a very private one. I hate praying in front of people. I am comfortable doing it in front of my children and with Richard, but that's about it. With anyone else, I get very self-conscious. Rather than being able to focus on the prayer I am saying, I get busy thinking about which words to use/not talking too fast/not talking too slow/not being too quiet/not switching words/not thinking of two words at the same time and combining them on accident to make a nonsensical word/not breathing weird, and a million other things. I mean, these are the thoughts that fill my head when I have to pray in public, so, yeah, it really doesn't work for me.

And I know there are many people who are comfortable going around, sharing their faith with anyone they meet. They can be charismatic and at ease while doing so, and it doesn't come across as obnoxious, arrogant, or self-righteous. I just don't think I could be like that. My unease would show through and I wouldn't seem genuine.

My faith helps me in many ways, and is my source of strength in times of struggle. Knowing that God is in charge and has a plan for our life, is something I cling to desperately during the times when Richard is gone.

I have come to find that believing in God is super helpful as a parent also. Because of my faith, I realized that I have a killer response for my boys when they get to the age where they ask never-ending questions:

"Mommy, why is the sky blue?"

"Because God made it that way."

"Mommy, why do I have 10 fingers?"

"Because God made us that way."

"Mommy, where do babies come from?"

"Because God-...er, uh...Well, God made Daddies, so you should go ask your Dad that question."

I mean, it's like 99% reliable. 

I don't know what Atheist parents do, they probably spend their entire day having to look things up in books, and get stats and facts to support their reasoning. They probably don't have any free time whatsoever. Yet another reason to be a Christian!

Seriously though, my faith in Christ is very important to me; it is the most important thing in my life. While I strive to be a good child of Christ, I fail at it every day. I am often disappointed in myself, and I never feel worthy of the salvation He has given me. And yet, I know I have it. I hope that while I may not be as forthcoming in speaking about my faith, that my actions and words on this blog will align with the life that God wants me to live.