A Lesson in Home Buying

It's a natural human instinct to desire something more. The latest, greatest, fastest, biggest, prettiest, most expensive, whatever-adjective-is-needed-to-describe-your-item thing. This week in the House of Fraser, we were struck with the notion that our current home would no longer suffice. Our reasons included it being too small, too far from family, too far from work, so on and so forth. In turn, we set to the tedious task of looking for homes and eventually came across what we would from that point on refer to as our "dream home." But after a week of roller coaster emotions, the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, we felt the gentle tug of God on our hearts (and we saw His hand at work throughout the process) telling us that it wasn't the time. Naturally, at the beginning of the process we fought hard against any resistance and continued to trudge forward in the home buying and home selling process. It was exhausting. It was stressful. It offered moments of craziness where Jimmy and I had opportunities to show our boys true grace under fire. Unfortunately, I don't think we excelled at showing grace in much of anything this past week, until the point when we pulled the plug on the whole thing. Our heavy hearts felt light again and we realized the process had blinded us from the beauties around us daily. A tough - and stressful - reminder from our Heavenly Father that we were called in those moments throughout the week to give thanks in all things. In. All. Things.

You see, dear reader, our house is more than sufficient. For our family at this juncture, it's perfect. It's a home that has brought through the doors two brand new baby boys. It's a home with no clear decorating pattern (I've never prided myself on having any fashion sense or decorating abilities). There's scripture on walls, fingerprints on the fridge, paintings hung from cabinets, and pictures all around encapsulating precious memories. There are couches to sit/sleep/jump on, blankets to build forts with, and baskets of toys to let imaginations take flight. Here'll you find gates to keep curiosity at bay, sippy cups and bottles to quench thirst, comfy beds to fall exhausted into at night and if you look hard enough, you'll find pieces of two people who came together almost five years ago to start a family. Within these walls we've had date nights, movie nights, nights where we do nothing but cry, days where frustrations run high and bouts of laughter so loud it makes us hoarse. We've celebrated birthdays, holidays, friends getting married and friends having babies.

Through imperfect eyes, though, we saw something that wasn't quite good enough for right now; something that wouldn't "do" for any longer. And in the moment I realized what God was trying to show me, I realized just how much I wanted to continue to grow in this house. I want to fill it with more kids, have toys and photographs and laundry and shoes and traces of work and play burst from it's seams. I want to fill the walls with more memories and laugh more, cry more, learn more and grow more here. In this place where I quickly could list all the reasons that it would no longer work, I want to fill with more joy, hope and scripture.

We've lived in this house for three years, and honestly, I've never felt more at home.