Fulfilled {How We Got Here, Part Six}

Last Friday we signed a lease for a new place to live. We’ll be moving soon, a process that has been a long and winding road. Here’s the story of how it happened. Read Part One here , Part Two here, Part Three here, Part Four here and Part Five here.

The Monday we were scheduled to see the farmhouse started off crappy. Literally. Our son pooped on the kitchen floor. I won’t go into any more detail, but that was how our day started.

Phil took the car in for an oil change and the kids and I got ready to spend the day in Lancaster. When Phil got home mid-morning, we headed out, picked up the key and drove to the farmhouse. Because I had built it up in my head, I wanted an obvious reason to not love it when I saw it in person. Based only on pictures and Phil’s report, I already loved it, and I could visualize our family living there.

And we’d been given a second chance to rent it, so it was meant to be, right?

Yeah, I’m a dreamer.

The farmhouse was more than I hoped for.

In every room, I could see us there.

And the kids ran through the house like it was already theirs. (This was the only place they’d done that.)

We tried to be picky and took a mental tally of the little things that might need fixing. But seeing it only fueled my love.

I wanted this place to be ours.

We locked up and took a drive and then went to CiCi’s to stuff ourselves with pizza. We talked it through between trips to the buffet and our hopes grew. We couldn’t find a single reason not to pursue this house.

Just before leaving lunch, we got a call from the agency. They needed the key for another showing in 30 minutes. If hope was a helium balloon, this one phone call popped it.

We went back to the house and left the key, and I panicked. If they were showing the house to someone else, then they were going to pick someone else. Or so I thought. Because why would they choose us if they could choose someone else?

The sinful part of me wanted to sabotage the showing because I’d already decided: This was our home.

I sulked and worried and tried to convince myself that it didn’t matter if we didn’t get it because God would provide. The next place we looked at did nothing to bolster my hope. It wasn’t right for us either.

We drove back to the agency to drop off the letter from Phil’s boss, and they promised we’d hear something in a day or so.

Pick us, please pick us, I prayed.

The drive from the agency’s office to our home is about 30 minutes. We weren’t even halfway home when they called.

And we got the farmhouse.

They wanted to know how soon we could sign the papers and when we wanted to move in. Even now, it still seems unreal.

Phil promised to call them after we’d talked and arrived home.

The kids high-fived us from the back seat and cheered because they wanted it as much as we did.

We signed the papers on Friday, June 14. We have the keys. We’ve given our notice. In a month or less, we’ll be all the way moved in to our new place.

A dream come true, my dad called it when we talked on the phone.

And though I think he was teasing me a little, it really is.

I believe God had this place picked out for us. His timing turned out to be perfect. More than we could have dreamed up ourselves.