I’m writing this post completely for myself. So that in a month, a year and heaven forbid, two years, I can remember….
My husband and I just bought a fixer-upper. Every room has 25-year-old decor complete with floral or lighthouse wallpaper borders and dark green paint. Every room is pleading with me to put it first on the list of making it lovely.
We gutted the kitchen and now I have no stove but I do have crooked nails and wires hanging from an open ceiling.
The boy’s bathroom has a pink sink and almost but not quite matching tub and toilet, also from the pink family.
The pool is sparkling blue one day and mud colored the next as we figure out the best levels for the chemicals as they mix with our well water.
We have no internet and our hopes of a decent, high-speed connection are fading fast. The internet is kind of my job, by the way, which helps pay our mortgage.
We have to switch our cell phone carrier and get new phones, our boys are starting a new school today, and the dog is itching something fierce.
We also spent our hard-earned money on the World’s Worst Barn. And I punctured the end of my big toe with a nail. Insert Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day comment here – almost.
There are definitely moments of completely suffocating overwhelm of the “what in the world have we done, we are idiots” variety. But I can’t actually get myself to feel that way for very long.
Because through all the junk in our lives, the Lord has used the circumstances of where we live to teach us, to guide us, to get our attention. I trust He’ll do the same through this home.
I simply cannot bring myself to be too distressed about the hot mess that is our new home because we hoped and prayed for years for this next adventure. We’ve lived in four different rentals in the past six years while paying off debt and looked so forward to the next house we bought. And in those moments where I secretly long for high-speed internet and that free garlic in Egypt, I’m reminded that the path to that free garlic was slavery.
And for us, we hoped for this very house, with all its quirks, all summer. For us, not owning this place would have meant staying where we were. And we were so over that.
I’m not saying I won’t have my days. Just the opposite. I know I will. I’m sure I’ll shed a few tears and yell at my husband and be short with my kids and curse the lack of water pressure all in the name of fixing up a house. Mark my words.
But ultimately, I hope I remember what a wonderful gift this house is and what a joy and honor it is to get to gut the kitchen and have nails and wires hanging and have the means to find a great deal on a secondhand dream stove and to have a pool even though it looks like diarrhea.