Do you know why I hate to fly? Because I can't control a darn thing, and I can't figure out why something that large manages to get off the ground, much less stay in the air. The moral of the story? I like to be in control, and I don't tend to do so well with situations where not only do I not have control, but there is absolutely nothing I can do to influence the situation. For instance, in my marriage, Neil might be the head, but I get the unique privilege of being the neck and I can turn the head which ever way I please (analogy borrowed from My Big Fat Greek Wedding).
When it comes to the matter of house hunting. I have all the control in the world up until the point we place an offer on a house, then nothing. It's not like I can call up the owner every two seconds to see if they've made a decision. "Just accept my offer already...pretty please with Starbucks on top." I'm thinking that wouldn't go over well, so here we sit, minds racing, nerves shaking. They got the offer last night. It can't be that hard to read it over and decide on a counter. Seriously (man, I miss Grey's Anatomy already)! I wonder if their waiting for weekend's end to see if any more offers come in. That would be our luck, right...to get in a bidding war in a "buyer's market." Except that we would never declare war. Going above their asking price isn't an option for us. It's already at the top of our budget. So what option am I left with, besides ranting on my blog for all the world to see (or the 20 or so people who regularly read it). I could be still and know that God is God, and TRUST in his perfect plan for our lives. How come that often sounds so trite? Does the word TRUST come with an instruction manual, or a 12 step program. Quick answer-no. I think that's the point. We're not supposed to know how to do it. Faith looks completely different depending on the person or the situation. Sometimes it's easy, and sometimes it's a little foggy, and other times it's down right near impossible. I've been in all those places.
In all reality, where we live should be an easy one right? Because why does it really matter, at least in the bigger scheme of things? It's just a house (fully restored 1920's cape cod), or just a school district, or just a neighborhood. In this case, it's all three. In my mind, I'm already moved in. I can see bamboo bench, now in our bathroom, gracing the foyer with it's presence, holding our kids winter mittens and scarves. I can see Owen and Blake playing with their train set in the family room while I fold a load of laundry in the neighboring utility room. I see Mom and I shopping for curtains, blinds, and accessories to put the finishing touches on our new home. You see, in my mind, it's already our home. I know, I know. Scold me all you want, but I'm a girl and that's just how our minds work.
So for now, we wait, impatiently, but still we wait.
I'm Not A Stalker, Just A Fan
2 years ago