Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

how we got here

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.

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In every room, I could see us there.

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

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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.

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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.

Movement {How We Got Here, Part Five}

On 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 and Part Four here.

A friend who had been keeping her eyes open for properties directed me to one in an area of the city that seemed perfect.

Besides that, it was the first floor of a farmhouse with a big porch. The rent was in our range and included some utilities. The school district was good. It was close to Phil’s work and the church we planned to attend.

We didn’t meet the income guidelines but I was honest about that up front and hoped they’d have mercy when they saw our good credit and rental history.

Phil picked up the keys on a Friday after work and checked the place out. He took measurements and mental notes. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as close to perfect as we’d come so far.

He brought home an application, which we turned in the following Wednesday. It was now the end of May, and I was starting to freak out. What if we didn’t move this summer? Did I want to pull our daughter out of school mid-year to move?

After we turned in the application, we looked at another house to rent. It was nice. But the location wasn’t great, and the city was starting a massive yearlong construction project in the area. Truthfully, my hopes were pinned on the farmhouse I’d only seen in pictures. In my mind, nothing else compared.

My husband left for a few days for a denominational conference. While he was gone, I researched the utilities on the other house and tried to figure out the impact this construction project would have on the property.

On Friday afternoon, before Phil got home, I got the call from the agency managing the farmhouse property. They’d considered four applications, including ours, and chose someone else. But they would keep our application on file.

I was crushed.

That weekend, Phil and I also decided that the other house we looked at just wouldn’t be a good fit for our family. It felt like we were tossing aside something “okay” or “good enough” while we waited for the best. We were a little scared that we were making the wrong decision and that we were passing up our last chance to move.

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We chose to trust.

Phil went back to work the next week, now the first week of June, and I went back to searching for places to live. Phil was offered another promotion–one we didn’t expect and certainly not so soon. With it came a significant pay increase, which I hoped would literally open doors in our housing search.

He doesn't have to wear a bow tie; he chooses to. And I think he wears it well.

He doesn’t have to wear a bow tie; he chooses to. And I think he wears it well.

By the first Friday in June, I still wasn’t excited about any of the places I’d found online. I went back to the site where the farmhouse was listed, since we already had an application in with them, and found the farmhouse still among the listings.

I took a chance and e-mailed the company, asking if it was still available. I told them about my husband’s raise and wondered if we could still be considered for it, if it was on the market. It was, indeed, still on the market, and we could look at it again, if we wanted, and they would update our application if I could prove my husband’s pay increase.

I set up an appointment for Monday, Phil’s day off, so we could all go see it. We were heading that way to see another apartment that day as well, but everything else faded in my mind. The farmhouse was still available! And Phil had gotten a raise!

In the meantime, I contacted Phil’s boss for a letter verifying his increase, since his paystubs wouldn’t show it yet. She worked with me to have something in hand by the end of the day.

Hope was rising.

Could this be it? The break we’d been waiting for?