I forgot to tell you something.
The very first time I glimpsed this house online:
.... my heart began pounding. Really. And never once during the previous hundreds of houses nor the ones afterward, did that happen again.
So the pounding was rather like a sign, though let me stress this: I didn't seek after a sign. It just happened.
And when we actually stepped inside the house, I felt as though I'd come home. Everything felt right about it, except well, that beyond-tiny second bedroom. But after we decided, later, we could add a wall and a French door to the Florida room to use as (what would amount to) a third bedroom, everything felt ok. Especially after we also discussed creating a retro gameroom up in the huge barn loft. What fun!
Except Tom wanted to keep looking at listings. He'd not yet searched through hundreds of available houses as I had, and too, he needed convincing that I could not mentally and emotionally survive in a city, even though he believed he'd survive just fine.
Through much whining, I convinced him.
And although (I told myself) it's true that real love thinks of the other person (and I should be thinking of Tom's wanting city life), there's also knowing oneself and knowing you'd literally shrivel-up in an environment God never gave you the Grace to live within.
Oh, the things I've learned on this farm. Oh, the mistakes they will help me avoid in the future.
So anyway, Tom kept house-searching even after we shared exciting plans about the dear little grey house. But yesterday evening? He became officially Sick Of Looking Beyond The Obvious and said, "Let's just call Cher right now to put in an offer on that (grey) house." I told him, "No, I want you to sleep on it. After all, just one hour ago you wanted to buy a mansion."
So that is where we are. It's morning and I've not yet asked Tom if he still wishes to make an offer on The Sweet Grey House, but I've a feeling he does.
Those of you who wanted us to buy the mansion, well, you crack me up. Only if *you* lived in that neighborhood would I go for it. Why? Because I'd make you work and paint alongside me. :)
No way could I handle a project like that at this time in my life. Oh, I'm much better suited to decorating than running a farm--yes! But I'm also certain I plain no longer desire to give myself to a house. I used to want nothing more, but that season passed away. Now I want something else.
I'd rather give myself to you. And to prove that point, this morning I awoke at 4:30, opened my Facebook page and saw that a young friend of mine (someone I've not seen since just before her marriage 12 years ago) asked me to call her because of a family emergency. And you know? At first I thought, "Oh dear. After this past week I'm feeling so depleted and as if I'm in recovery." (I didn't even get out of my pajamas yesterday. Good grief.) "I feel like I have so little to give her right now."
And that, dear friends--for me-- is pathetic. A danger sign. Totally opposite of where I want to be and the big reason why I cannot even consider buying a huge house.
My greatest desire is to live ready to encourage people. At any moment, morning, noon or evening, any week, any month, any year.
It's all about living true to God's calling for you, personally. And, well, if He's called you to decorate a huge house, you are blessed! (Yes!) But I feel blessed, too. I love what He's called me to do--and if we get that sweet little house--I'll be freer to carry out that calling to the best of my and Grace's ability.
I can hardly wait.
Something else very important that I forgot to tell you? That little grey house is on a quiet, dead-end street and guess what lies at the end, just five houses away?
The Erie Canal.
Yes! And our potential neighbor said there are trails on both sides and you can even walk to the next country town if you wish. There's even a tiny park a short distance away at the canal's edge. In fact, as we stood speaking with him, three people walked past, dragging a small boat behind them. He said they take their boat down to the canal often.
Oh happy day! Places to walk again. Sidewalks, even. I so need that.
Elizabeth asked some good questions in my comment box which I answered (or tried to). You may want to check them out in case you, too, have questions about all this zaniness. :)
P.S. Carla--welcome back! I'm so glad you found me again. :)
And K.E. --thanks for your advice! It helped us decide some good things.