I begin with four words: We. Got. The. House. Not just a house, but the house. This is a tale about dreaming and faith and trust and a love lavished on us by our Father, from whom every good and perfect gift comes.
Matt and I are a bread and butter couple...fundamentally different but complementary when joined together. We work well because we have different personalities but share common interests and find the same things amusing. (The couple that laughs together, stays together!) I might argue there are two types of house-hunters out there--"Move-in Ready Me" and "I Love a Project Matt." On our last day of happy hunting, I found a house in Newburgh that had everything on our checklist and was, you guessed it, move-in ready. I was ready to make an offer. By the time we got to the driveway, Matt couldn't even remember what the kitchen looked like. My gentle, quiet spirit and I proceeded to explain to him why that house was perfect for us and why he must be crazy for not remembering it. He agreed to see it again, but he was clearly lacking the necessary enthusiasm.
The next house we looked at was a foreclosure. The foreclosures I had seen up to this point were, in a word, sad. I went to the front door expecting to smell cigarettes and regret. What we found on the inside was quite the surprise! It wasn't quite move-in-ready, but it wasn't one big project either. Matt fell head over heels in love with this house. To my great surprise, I found myself going back to the view from the kitchen sink, the beautiful weeping willows in the backyard, the nook upstairs where I would read while I waited on the laundry...I was falling, too. I didn't want to live on that side of town, and I didn't want to complete any projects, but I couldn't stop thinking about the house that turned the head of the unflappable Matthew Jacobs.
I was still very unsure and nervous and doubting and worrying because this is still me we're dealing with, after all. Still, I felt a still, small voice (maybe Matt whispering in my sleep?) telling me I could maybe, just maybe use this opportunity to really trust my husband's judgment. Rad-i-cal idea, I know. I began praying for peace and for confirmation, anything that would set my mind at ease.
Since this was all new to me, I didn't realize that the number the loan officer had given for monthly payments included all insurance and taxes. Having done multiple online estimators, I thought the number was way too high, so I pushed Matt to make a call to our bank. When I realized I needed to deposit my paycheck anyway, I decided just to talk to someone myself. This was thirty minutes before they closed, but it never hurts to ask, right? The woman I just so happened to speak to just so happened to have lived across the street from the house we just so happened to want. She explained the all-inclusive payments, and she told me about the house and the man who lived there. She was warm and encouraging and sure I was getting a great deal. She was even able to tell me how much the bank still owed on the house. I felt like that was confirmation enough. It was time to bring in Dave Shrode.
Dave Shrode is a friend and also a bit famous in our church for being able to fix/build/demolish just about anything. Before you finish asking, he's got it halfway completed. Last Monday, Matt and I asked him to take a look at the house to make sure we weren't getting a lemon. My family members were also called in to give their opinions. I was so anxious I decided to drive around the neighborhood until it was closer to the meeting time. I pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes before our scheduled meeting time, and my family informed me Dave had already found a way into the house via a crawlspace. When the realtor came and let the rest of us in the front door, I held my breath, hoping that my family would confirm what we felt and Dave would confirm the house wasn't going to collapse. My family loved it, and Dave would pop in occasionally with cobwebs in his hair to give a report of his findings. When he went Spiderman on the master closet, lifting himself up into the ceiling crawlspace without the use of a ladder or handle, my dad shook his head and said, "That is not easy."
After the inspection, we decided to make an offer. We were going to start low and hope for the best. That night, however, someone else decided to make their own offer. We had to think fast. How do you bet against the other man when you haven't the foggiest what his bet will be? This was nonsense! We put in our offer, followed by my favorite number, per the realtor's instructions. The next day, we were supposed to submit our best and final offer. Do we go up? Do we stand? Does anyone really know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em?
On the way back to work, I stopped for just a couple of minutes at that house. I was thinking of a close friend who marched around the house she wanted like Joshua at Jericho. I thought of her story many times that week. She didn't get her dream house at that time, but God had come through in a big way for her family in a plan they never anticipated. I parked in the driveway and walked through the gate into the backyard. Hitting my knees under a willow tree, I prayed out loud that if this house was in God's plan for us, He would make it happen. I prayed that He would bless this home with love and let us fill it with a family. I prayed that it would be a refuge and a place where we would do His work and raise up children who know His voice. I also promised we would give Him all the glory, and that we would praise Him even if the answer was no, like my friend's was. We were trusting him with our home, our future, our family. The other night at dinner, my husband prayed over a family member, "Let his plan be Your plan." What a beautiful prayer. Under that willow tree I prayed, "Let our plan be Your plan."
With that "best and final" offer looming in front of us, we had to make a decision. After talking to Matt, I called my mom (because that's what I do). She said, "Call Grampy. He'll have an answer." Grampy always has an answer to life's tough questions. I made the call, and he said, "Hold 'em!" That's not actually a direct quote. He told me that was what he would do, but that if we lost the house, we might never speak to him again. After Grampy, I called my daddy. He compared it to casting lots in the bible, a great illustration. Cast your lot, and let God decide. Finally I called Matt again and shared those thoughts. I knew how much he wanted this house, and I wanted the final word to be his this time. He agreed--we hold. I kept thinking of a specific number that was less than a thousand more, but I brushed that aside. We were in agreement. We were trusting God completely. If we were supposed to be in that house, he would take our offer and make a way. His way.
The day after that, I received word that a third offer had come rolling in. Are you kidding me? This house had been vacant for months. Were people spying on us? Get your own dream house, stalkers! I let Matt know, but our answer remained the same. We hold.
This morning, I got a call from our realtor. I braced for impact, but that wasn't necessary. We got the house! Tears of unbridled joy ran down my face. I yelled, "Praise God!" as she tried to tell me it was the lucky 48 at the end of the offer. I cannot agree. That number is fun, but I serve a God bigger than luck and bigger than the bank and bigger than the dream house stalkers! She said the other two offers were much lower than ours, and the bank was only going to counter us. They countered with the exact number I had in my head for two days, and with the warranty and fees they agreed to pay, it was almost exactly the same as our original offer. Our closing date was before Christmas, a dream in itself, but also perfect timing since we needed to be out of our apartment by the end of the year. I called Matt, yelling through sobs, until he finally heard and understood me. That was one of the best calls I've ever made!
Our dreams are coming true.
This has been the hardest year of our lives. We began the year by losing Matt's father, who we both miss very much. No one would be more excited for us than he would have been. In July, we lost Papaw...my anchor in the storm. That pain is still raw and always just beneath the surface. We have faced trials, scares, surgery, insecurity, and private heartache. In the next two months, we will face holidays that feel incomplete in a way we've never experienced. It has been a painful year, and I'm grateful for this joy at the end of it.
I will be traveling across the pond and seeing places I've dreamed of my whole life with the man who is better than any dream I've ever had. When we're finished seeing the world, we will come home and move our things from the little apartment where we've saved up our pennies to the dream home where we will find refuge from this world, celebrate holidays, start a family, and pray under weeping willows.
Matt and I are a bread and butter couple...fundamentally different but complementary when joined together. We work well because we have different personalities but share common interests and find the same things amusing. (The couple that laughs together, stays together!) I might argue there are two types of house-hunters out there--"Move-in Ready Me" and "I Love a Project Matt." On our last day of happy hunting, I found a house in Newburgh that had everything on our checklist and was, you guessed it, move-in ready. I was ready to make an offer. By the time we got to the driveway, Matt couldn't even remember what the kitchen looked like. My gentle, quiet spirit and I proceeded to explain to him why that house was perfect for us and why he must be crazy for not remembering it. He agreed to see it again, but he was clearly lacking the necessary enthusiasm.
The next house we looked at was a foreclosure. The foreclosures I had seen up to this point were, in a word, sad. I went to the front door expecting to smell cigarettes and regret. What we found on the inside was quite the surprise! It wasn't quite move-in-ready, but it wasn't one big project either. Matt fell head over heels in love with this house. To my great surprise, I found myself going back to the view from the kitchen sink, the beautiful weeping willows in the backyard, the nook upstairs where I would read while I waited on the laundry...I was falling, too. I didn't want to live on that side of town, and I didn't want to complete any projects, but I couldn't stop thinking about the house that turned the head of the unflappable Matthew Jacobs.
I was still very unsure and nervous and doubting and worrying because this is still me we're dealing with, after all. Still, I felt a still, small voice (maybe Matt whispering in my sleep?) telling me I could maybe, just maybe use this opportunity to really trust my husband's judgment. Rad-i-cal idea, I know. I began praying for peace and for confirmation, anything that would set my mind at ease.
Since this was all new to me, I didn't realize that the number the loan officer had given for monthly payments included all insurance and taxes. Having done multiple online estimators, I thought the number was way too high, so I pushed Matt to make a call to our bank. When I realized I needed to deposit my paycheck anyway, I decided just to talk to someone myself. This was thirty minutes before they closed, but it never hurts to ask, right? The woman I just so happened to speak to just so happened to have lived across the street from the house we just so happened to want. She explained the all-inclusive payments, and she told me about the house and the man who lived there. She was warm and encouraging and sure I was getting a great deal. She was even able to tell me how much the bank still owed on the house. I felt like that was confirmation enough. It was time to bring in Dave Shrode.
Dave Shrode is a friend and also a bit famous in our church for being able to fix/build/demolish just about anything. Before you finish asking, he's got it halfway completed. Last Monday, Matt and I asked him to take a look at the house to make sure we weren't getting a lemon. My family members were also called in to give their opinions. I was so anxious I decided to drive around the neighborhood until it was closer to the meeting time. I pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes before our scheduled meeting time, and my family informed me Dave had already found a way into the house via a crawlspace. When the realtor came and let the rest of us in the front door, I held my breath, hoping that my family would confirm what we felt and Dave would confirm the house wasn't going to collapse. My family loved it, and Dave would pop in occasionally with cobwebs in his hair to give a report of his findings. When he went Spiderman on the master closet, lifting himself up into the ceiling crawlspace without the use of a ladder or handle, my dad shook his head and said, "That is not easy."
After the inspection, we decided to make an offer. We were going to start low and hope for the best. That night, however, someone else decided to make their own offer. We had to think fast. How do you bet against the other man when you haven't the foggiest what his bet will be? This was nonsense! We put in our offer, followed by my favorite number, per the realtor's instructions. The next day, we were supposed to submit our best and final offer. Do we go up? Do we stand? Does anyone really know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em?
On the way back to work, I stopped for just a couple of minutes at that house. I was thinking of a close friend who marched around the house she wanted like Joshua at Jericho. I thought of her story many times that week. She didn't get her dream house at that time, but God had come through in a big way for her family in a plan they never anticipated. I parked in the driveway and walked through the gate into the backyard. Hitting my knees under a willow tree, I prayed out loud that if this house was in God's plan for us, He would make it happen. I prayed that He would bless this home with love and let us fill it with a family. I prayed that it would be a refuge and a place where we would do His work and raise up children who know His voice. I also promised we would give Him all the glory, and that we would praise Him even if the answer was no, like my friend's was. We were trusting him with our home, our future, our family. The other night at dinner, my husband prayed over a family member, "Let his plan be Your plan." What a beautiful prayer. Under that willow tree I prayed, "Let our plan be Your plan."
With that "best and final" offer looming in front of us, we had to make a decision. After talking to Matt, I called my mom (because that's what I do). She said, "Call Grampy. He'll have an answer." Grampy always has an answer to life's tough questions. I made the call, and he said, "Hold 'em!" That's not actually a direct quote. He told me that was what he would do, but that if we lost the house, we might never speak to him again. After Grampy, I called my daddy. He compared it to casting lots in the bible, a great illustration. Cast your lot, and let God decide. Finally I called Matt again and shared those thoughts. I knew how much he wanted this house, and I wanted the final word to be his this time. He agreed--we hold. I kept thinking of a specific number that was less than a thousand more, but I brushed that aside. We were in agreement. We were trusting God completely. If we were supposed to be in that house, he would take our offer and make a way. His way.
The day after that, I received word that a third offer had come rolling in. Are you kidding me? This house had been vacant for months. Were people spying on us? Get your own dream house, stalkers! I let Matt know, but our answer remained the same. We hold.
This morning, I got a call from our realtor. I braced for impact, but that wasn't necessary. We got the house! Tears of unbridled joy ran down my face. I yelled, "Praise God!" as she tried to tell me it was the lucky 48 at the end of the offer. I cannot agree. That number is fun, but I serve a God bigger than luck and bigger than the bank and bigger than the dream house stalkers! She said the other two offers were much lower than ours, and the bank was only going to counter us. They countered with the exact number I had in my head for two days, and with the warranty and fees they agreed to pay, it was almost exactly the same as our original offer. Our closing date was before Christmas, a dream in itself, but also perfect timing since we needed to be out of our apartment by the end of the year. I called Matt, yelling through sobs, until he finally heard and understood me. That was one of the best calls I've ever made!
Our dreams are coming true.
This has been the hardest year of our lives. We began the year by losing Matt's father, who we both miss very much. No one would be more excited for us than he would have been. In July, we lost Papaw...my anchor in the storm. That pain is still raw and always just beneath the surface. We have faced trials, scares, surgery, insecurity, and private heartache. In the next two months, we will face holidays that feel incomplete in a way we've never experienced. It has been a painful year, and I'm grateful for this joy at the end of it.
I will be traveling across the pond and seeing places I've dreamed of my whole life with the man who is better than any dream I've ever had. When we're finished seeing the world, we will come home and move our things from the little apartment where we've saved up our pennies to the dream home where we will find refuge from this world, celebrate holidays, start a family, and pray under weeping willows.
For you, Sovereign Lord, have spoken, and with your blessing the house of your servant will be blessed forever. 2 Sam. 7:29b
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