Losing the House

Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.

Psalm 30:5

Dave Ramsey said to choose the realtor who was hungry. Two of the three realtors we interviewed seemed arrogant. One of the two was too concerned about her shoes to go view our backyard and garage. The third had only been a realtor for a few years. He wanted the job. Knowing he’d work hard for the sale, we hired Danny—both to sell our home and help us find another.

Our home was 1200 square feet and in a deteriorating neighborhood. With our second child on the way, we put our house on the market and began looking at other homes. We quickly fell in love with an 80s split-level on a pond, in a quaint neighborhood that put candle-lit lanterns out at Halloween. We made an offer and it was accepted pending the current owners finding “acceptable housing.” 

We accepted an offer on our house by two people who wanted nothing more than to nickel and dime us to death. But we settled because we didn’t want to lose that split level. When it came time to schedule an inspection, the sellers and their realtor seemed to be avoiding us. It took a while, but the truth always releases itself. The “acceptable housing” clause meant that when they couldn’t find a house they liked, they could simply back out of our deal. Yes, they had to return our earnest money, but that was the extent of their consequences. Our house was sale-pending. We had a three-year-old, I was 7 months pregnant, and there was not one house on the market within our price range we were interested in purchasing.

Unbeknownst to me, Danny and my father-in-law were friends. When the deal fell through and my father-in-law discovered how upset we were, he called Danny to vent. He called Danny to curse at him and ended a 20-year friendship. Over a house. 

God is so smart. Shortly after the house sale went through and I gave birth to that baby, Jason switched jobs. It was an hour commute one way, and it would have been longer from that split level. That pond in the backyard? The HOA would have prevented us from putting a fence in our yard and I would have lived in constant fear of our children drowning in that pond. (Did I mention child number three constantly escaped the house in the time it took me to switch laundry or go to the bathroom?)

God saved us from ourselves. Because we weren’t at a place in our faith yet where we’d ask for his opinion on anything, he closed doors, one after the other, to allow that house sale to fall through. And yes, it was really sad for a while, but what a blessing. Psalm 30:5 says, “Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.” 

So many things we cry tears or ruin 20-year-old friendships over in this life are temporary. With time and perspective, I learned to love the brick one-story we found. Six years later, when we’d leave that St. James Place house, I would sob in the front yard because it was the only home Ruby had ever known, and the place we brought David home to. There were birthday parties in the backyard and cramming as many people inside as we could into the open floor plan. It was close to the interstate for Jason’s commute. It was everything God knew we would need (and love) in a house.