Dear brothers and sisters,* when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing. James 1:1-4
I used to loathe our house.
Phil bought our house without me ever stepping foot in it. I was working, and so he had to fly back on his own and decide if this house was going to work. Being a remodeler, and a carpenter, the house looked ilke a lot of work, but it had "good bones" he said. We had been married two years, and had worked on our first house together. I was confident in his decision making skills...but I had no idea he could be so bold.
It was the last day of November when we first looked at the house we were to purchase the next day. It was cold and windy and the road to the house seemed like it was the longest road in the world. It was 1 hour from our Uncle's house, where we were staying - forever away from civilization. We stepped out of the car and our feet crunched on the newly fallen snow. The trees were great masses of sticks and the flowerbeds were full of dead weeds. The outside of the house was mostly brick, but as I walked up to the house I could see that what paint was there, was wearing away with the weather.
As we walked through the house, a feeling of dread came over me. We had to buy this house. This was now home. The cracked walls and the peeling paint. The worn green/brown shag carpeting. The white, rusted metal cabinets in the kitchen. I had never seen something needing so much work, let alone lived in such a place.
I held my 7 month, just barely crawling child in my arms, terrified. Everywhere I looked I saw walls that needed to be repaired and replaced. There was no way I could live here. And yet we were under contract to buy it the next morning. Not to mention the semi-trailer full of furnishings that had come over snowy ground to be there. Had it been spring, I could have hopped in that truck and just headed home. But the roads were just too treacherous now.
I said nothing as we walked because I was afraid of what would come out of my mouth. My in-laws called and wanted to meet up with us. "Great!" I thought, THEY will talk some sense into my husband.
As they walked through the house, they said nothing. I wanted them to yell and scream and refuse to let us buy the house. But they didn't. Phil and his dad walked through the upstairs again and I sat with my mom-in-law in the middle of the living room floor, crying. "Why would God abandon me like this?" I asked through tears. Being ever so wonderful, she just replied, "He hasn't. This might be difficult, but He is still here, walking with you three."
That night at dinner, I was able to get everyone in a discussion about not buying the house. I was feeling pretty good about this. I had no idea where we would put al of our things or where we would live, but the great thing is we were discussing NOT buying the house. But my father in law stopped the discussion. "The fact is, you guys are under contract to buy it tomorrow. Now, the question is, where do we go from here? How can we get this house ready for you guys?" While I hated that statement, it was true. And it turned our thoughts from excape to action.
Over the next two weeks, Ryan and I stayed at Phil's uncle's house while parents, uncles, aunts, and even grandparents worked on the house. (We kept Ryan and me home because I was nursing, and we didn't need Ryan exposed to any lead.) They patched and painted and removed carpet. They worked through most of the downstairs - the living room, front room, and den. When we finally decided that it was safe for Ryan and I to be out there, I decided I had better come to grips with the house. We were still not ready to move in, but with Phil now working and his parents visiting relatives, it was up to me to finish preparing.
As I drove out to the house that first day, I had grand plans of what I was going to accomplish. I dreamed of fully-furnished rooms and waxed floors. I dreamed of unpacking kitchenwares and making a home.
But when I opened the kitchen door to come in the house, the dread returned full force. I just hated it all. I turned to leave. I would come back when there were people to help...noise in the empty home to soothe my nerves.
But as I settled into my warm car, my conscience held me still. Just one project, I told myself. I forced my feet to walk back inside. I got out the wax, and started to wax the front room. I put Ryan in a playpen to take a nap, and just started to work, one side to the other. And I expected to have to fight myself to stay there, just through this project. But a funny thing happened. As I worked that floor, so focused and small as it was, I started to enjoy myself. To see beauty come from something small I had done. When I allowed myself a break, I turned to look out the window. Two walls of that room are covered with windows, and I took in a deep breath as I surveyed the white landscape. It really was beautiful. And serene. There was something calming about the quiet and the solitude. I could see for miles. (I have since found myself drawn to that front room many times- it was so comforting to look out at the land- already perfect without any "projects".) While waxing that floor, a stirring inside my heart made me feel just a bit more at home. I could stand back at my work and think "yes, that was worth it."
And this past 10 months has been that way for me so many times. I will look at a room or a closet and think "I just can't DO this". But when I force myself to do one small thing, and then another, before I know it, I have a beautiful landscape.
My house has been a lot of work. When we first moved here I avoided inviting people over, from embarrassment, and fear. As I walk through my house now, I can do so with pride. Each room slowly repaired and restored with elbow grease and firm resolve. But along the way, something inside me has happened, unexpectedly. Over these past 10 months. I, too, have been toughened...refined. When I see other people's homes with as much work as mine once had, I can joyfully dream with them- help inspire them to what COULD be rather than what is. And they still have to walk it. They still need the paint and the scrapers and the patch compound. Its amazing to me how something as seemingly simple as a house can be refining for someone - that it can teach discipline and endurance and also the frivolity of possessions.
There are still so many things to do - there is still red carpeting in the bathroom and the outside still needs to be painted...but I see it differently now. I can see the potential underneath that my husband saw that first time he walked through the house. Before we came, a friend showed excitement for our new adventure, assuring us that if God had not let us down yet, he was not about to do so now. Looking back on that first day, that feeling of abandonment seems so distant to me now. I can see where God has stood by us, giving us friends and support and a beautiful home.
I used to loathe our house.
Phil bought our house without me ever stepping foot in it. I was working, and so he had to fly back on his own and decide if this house was going to work. Being a remodeler, and a carpenter, the house looked ilke a lot of work, but it had "good bones" he said. We had been married two years, and had worked on our first house together. I was confident in his decision making skills...but I had no idea he could be so bold.
It was the last day of November when we first looked at the house we were to purchase the next day. It was cold and windy and the road to the house seemed like it was the longest road in the world. It was 1 hour from our Uncle's house, where we were staying - forever away from civilization. We stepped out of the car and our feet crunched on the newly fallen snow. The trees were great masses of sticks and the flowerbeds were full of dead weeds. The outside of the house was mostly brick, but as I walked up to the house I could see that what paint was there, was wearing away with the weather.
As we walked through the house, a feeling of dread came over me. We had to buy this house. This was now home. The cracked walls and the peeling paint. The worn green/brown shag carpeting. The white, rusted metal cabinets in the kitchen. I had never seen something needing so much work, let alone lived in such a place.
I held my 7 month, just barely crawling child in my arms, terrified. Everywhere I looked I saw walls that needed to be repaired and replaced. There was no way I could live here. And yet we were under contract to buy it the next morning. Not to mention the semi-trailer full of furnishings that had come over snowy ground to be there. Had it been spring, I could have hopped in that truck and just headed home. But the roads were just too treacherous now.
I said nothing as we walked because I was afraid of what would come out of my mouth. My in-laws called and wanted to meet up with us. "Great!" I thought, THEY will talk some sense into my husband.
As they walked through the house, they said nothing. I wanted them to yell and scream and refuse to let us buy the house. But they didn't. Phil and his dad walked through the upstairs again and I sat with my mom-in-law in the middle of the living room floor, crying. "Why would God abandon me like this?" I asked through tears. Being ever so wonderful, she just replied, "He hasn't. This might be difficult, but He is still here, walking with you three."
That night at dinner, I was able to get everyone in a discussion about not buying the house. I was feeling pretty good about this. I had no idea where we would put al of our things or where we would live, but the great thing is we were discussing NOT buying the house. But my father in law stopped the discussion. "The fact is, you guys are under contract to buy it tomorrow. Now, the question is, where do we go from here? How can we get this house ready for you guys?" While I hated that statement, it was true. And it turned our thoughts from excape to action.
Over the next two weeks, Ryan and I stayed at Phil's uncle's house while parents, uncles, aunts, and even grandparents worked on the house. (We kept Ryan and me home because I was nursing, and we didn't need Ryan exposed to any lead.) They patched and painted and removed carpet. They worked through most of the downstairs - the living room, front room, and den. When we finally decided that it was safe for Ryan and I to be out there, I decided I had better come to grips with the house. We were still not ready to move in, but with Phil now working and his parents visiting relatives, it was up to me to finish preparing.
As I drove out to the house that first day, I had grand plans of what I was going to accomplish. I dreamed of fully-furnished rooms and waxed floors. I dreamed of unpacking kitchenwares and making a home.
But when I opened the kitchen door to come in the house, the dread returned full force. I just hated it all. I turned to leave. I would come back when there were people to help...noise in the empty home to soothe my nerves.
But as I settled into my warm car, my conscience held me still. Just one project, I told myself. I forced my feet to walk back inside. I got out the wax, and started to wax the front room. I put Ryan in a playpen to take a nap, and just started to work, one side to the other. And I expected to have to fight myself to stay there, just through this project. But a funny thing happened. As I worked that floor, so focused and small as it was, I started to enjoy myself. To see beauty come from something small I had done. When I allowed myself a break, I turned to look out the window. Two walls of that room are covered with windows, and I took in a deep breath as I surveyed the white landscape. It really was beautiful. And serene. There was something calming about the quiet and the solitude. I could see for miles. (I have since found myself drawn to that front room many times- it was so comforting to look out at the land- already perfect without any "projects".) While waxing that floor, a stirring inside my heart made me feel just a bit more at home. I could stand back at my work and think "yes, that was worth it."
And this past 10 months has been that way for me so many times. I will look at a room or a closet and think "I just can't DO this". But when I force myself to do one small thing, and then another, before I know it, I have a beautiful landscape.
My house has been a lot of work. When we first moved here I avoided inviting people over, from embarrassment, and fear. As I walk through my house now, I can do so with pride. Each room slowly repaired and restored with elbow grease and firm resolve. But along the way, something inside me has happened, unexpectedly. Over these past 10 months. I, too, have been toughened...refined. When I see other people's homes with as much work as mine once had, I can joyfully dream with them- help inspire them to what COULD be rather than what is. And they still have to walk it. They still need the paint and the scrapers and the patch compound. Its amazing to me how something as seemingly simple as a house can be refining for someone - that it can teach discipline and endurance and also the frivolity of possessions.
There are still so many things to do - there is still red carpeting in the bathroom and the outside still needs to be painted...but I see it differently now. I can see the potential underneath that my husband saw that first time he walked through the house. Before we came, a friend showed excitement for our new adventure, assuring us that if God had not let us down yet, he was not about to do so now. Looking back on that first day, that feeling of abandonment seems so distant to me now. I can see where God has stood by us, giving us friends and support and a beautiful home.
And my house continually grows on me. Last night we had people over for a fall dinner. We roasted turkey, dug potatoes from our garden, picked a squash, and made an apple pie. We sat around a table in my dining room, dark with reds and golds. The kids ran around and played games and the adults talked. It was the beautiful clatter of family and friends. It was home. And after, we collapsed into the chairs and surveyed the landscape - strewn with dishes and toys - and it was nice - like the snow, serene and quiet, silence resonating throughout.
4 comments:
Nicely said, Trace! I think of you like one of those tough, pioneer women. They blazed trails to the West with their covered wagon packed full of furniture and children, having no idea what their futures held but fiercely determined to making a home for their family no matter the difficulty. You're so brave and I can see how this experience has made you a stronger person with fiercer faith along the way. I'm proud of you!
The Lord definitely met you where you were to show you how to deal. I know that the short time that Alan and I were house hunting we looked at a particular house that needed a LOT of work. He and the realtor we're like "This house is great! Lots of potential!" My response was, "No". Plain and simple. :) They asked why and I started listing off issues. We moved on and found a house (not a fixer-upper) that we both liked and continue to love it. Sometimes I wonder though if we HAD gotten that one home, how I'd be dealing with it. Not too well, I assure you. I'm not above hard work but I think I would be pretty overwhelmed as you have been. May the Lord continue to bless you and guide you as you make your house a home.
Trace...it's late and I sat down at the computer for a bit to de-stress after the frustration of going through a midnight fire drill in the wrong building, with a staff that wasn't at all prepared to address it...I sat down and read a few things, but I think that your blog post -this post- was what I really needed to read.
What a perspective you have gained, and what boldness this has taken - and a whole heck of a lot of trust in your husband and most of all, in God. Whether you stay in Iowa for the rest of your lives or for only a season of your life, I hope and pray for the three of you that you will continue to grow in joy and wisdom each day.
I love you and miss you and I'm so excited for Ryan to meet a new baby cousin in a few months!! I hope to talk to you soon - call any time!
Tifani- Thanks for the encouragement. Funny story- for the first many months here (and still sometimes, I found a lot of comfort and inspiration in reading those books about women moving out west. Hey, my house is not made out of sod and I have running water- Heaven!
Emily - I think that is really the beautiful thing about God- when we are tested, we are stronger for it. And, it might not be your house, but you are being tested, too...I've read your blog...
Amanda - Thanks so much for the encouragement and CONGRATS...I can't wait to meet my new nephew. Wow- parenthood-What an adventure in itself! Take care of yourself and that little guy!
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