comin' or goin' it seems sometimes.
My wife and I have been riding a bit of a rollercoaster the last few months. Now, having said that I should probably make some disclaimers. I moved to the midwest from the Pacific Northwest. I'm accustomed to hills. But I've chosen (and prefer) the vast flatlands of the American midwest because of it's big sky. My wife, however has spent her whole life (excepting a semester in DC) in this beautiful countryscape. We visited the northwest this year, and were driving down Seneca street in downtown Seattle, and I think she almost puked. She put her feet into the floor-pan so hard, I was tempted to let her do all the braking from over there. I was laughing, but mostly at her, not the hill so much (I know, I'm cruel, eh?).
Anyways, I think my point is just that it doesn't take much rise and fall to constitute a rollercoaster for us at times. We're both pretty flat-ish people. More tortoise than hare maybe? Well, last year we decided we were going to buy ourselves a little farm out in the thousand acres of Madison Co. We had lots of reasons. While we would have loved to keep our winterhome in the blossoming downtown neighborhood we'd come to love, we knew we'd have to sell our current house. So we bent down and got to work. There was lots to do, because our ambition (ok, MY ambition) had bested me in several small contests, and all of these things needed to be done to convince somebody to move their lives into our little house.
We finished in September. Right at the beginning. Now, the housing market had been teetering and shaking for several months, since the region's largest homebuilder collapsed quite suddenly. Apparently the world couldn't handle one more for-sale sign, because days after I put the sign in the lawn the whole economical world just imploded. So...sorry about that. My bad.
We suffered through a winter of showings, open houses, impromptu house-cleaning, and absolutely zero bids. Tired, and feeling beaten, we pulled the sign after Christmas. It didn't really look like the market was going to recover anytime real soon, and we were tired of cleaning up after our boys, who tirelessly joy in destruction and mayhem.
We'd had very high hopes. We felt God's Spirit over every move and aspect. Blessing seemed to open doors and pave paths. Our hearts yearned for the acreage. Everything seemed just right-except the part where we sell the house and slide into the farm. Yeah. Sort of a big deal.
We'd been so excited that one weekend when, while were driving out of town for the weekend we got 3 calls from 3 realtors, each with families that were returning for 2nd or 3rd visits to the house. We looked at each other as we drove and just shook our heads: Could God seriously put us in a position to have a 3-way bidding war in the death-throes of a world-wide economic recession?
None of those realtors called us again. We were so confused. Well, how else can I put it? We gave up. Our neighbors were glad to see the sign gone, and we were encouraged by the many shows of affection they gave in the following weeks and months. But yet we yearned for frogs, and tall grass, and a corn crib. Totally impractical in our neighborhood.
...
I made the mistake of driving past the farm last week. (Sigh). We (me and the boys) were on the way to grandmas house. We've been slowly unpacking boxes that we'd packed up and moved into her garage, and we were driving down the dusty gravel road towards her house and pulled in the driveway. When I put the truck in park in front of the garage, it was...well, like getting home after a long trip. The boys bolted, and before I could really stop them it was all backs and bottoms while they ran up to the apple trees and empty corn crib. Damn.
...
So a lot has changed since we last decided to buy this farm. Lots. But the fact remains that we still yearn for it. God has failed so far to remove the desire. Is it, or is it NOT God's "will" for us to move to this farm, to raise our boys free-range, to help support my wife's family as it sneaks into old age? To be happy? These are questions that are borderline ridiculous to ask, just because they are so impossible to know certainly in this mortal veil.
...
One of the reasons we decided to stay downtown was that we could manage our mortgage much easier. We could handle the farm mortgage-we wouldn't have agreed to it if we couldn't. But we had much more flexibility downtown, flexibility that could be highly coveted if the markets continued to decline. We felt that it was more responsible to God-both in a strictly fiscal sense, but also as decision makers, trust holders sort of, for our boys. He had given us custodianship, in trust, of our boys, of our responsibilities in our community, in our church, and the mortgage downtown made it much more likely that we could continue on in those responsibilities regardless of economic woe and flux. And that made sense.
...
We started talking about it again on Thursday or Friday. We elected to spend the weekend in prayer and reflection, and meet again on Sunday afternoon. One thing that stood out to me was the fact that whether we stay or go, we're standing on Faith.
Should we decide to stay, finish paying of Sugar Mamma's last student loans, maybe invest a little more in our house and build up a bigger downpayment, we are acting in faith that the farm that's been empty and unsold for the last 2 years will still be empty and unsold 12 months from now. Or that something better will come up.
Should we decide to go, selling our house below what we think it's really worth, and buying the farm, our faith is placed in the belief that God will bless us with stability and that we won't be pushed the very, very edge. That His desire includes ours to raise free-range farm kids. That the men they will become having lived there is more valuable to His kingdom than the men they would become living here in a semi-slummy, semi-metro/urban remix neighborhood. I love both settings. I just think the dustier one is the better, the more appealing for me and for my sugar momma.
We are going to put our house up for sale. If we get junky offers, or can't come to terms with current owners of the farm, all we need to do is say no. But God won't likely bring us the buyer(s) if the sign is stuck in the garage.
From this point forward, our faith is placed in God's ability to speak.
Amen, speak Lord, your servants are listening...
