It Might Not Be A Trust Fall, But…
When David and I bought our house we purchased a home that was considerably smaller and cheaper than what we could afford. We were nervous making such a large purchase – our first large purchase as a couple. We neither expected nor planned to stay in this house longer than five years. We’ve been here close to nine years. Our house is cute, adorable, cheap and way too small for a family of five. David and I like to toy with the idea of selling and buying a bigger, newer, house but when it comes down to the decision we don’t budge. Fear. Stagnation. Comfort. Anxiety. Change. All of these things prevent us from moving forward.
We walked through the solid wood door with stained glass and fell in love. It was a beautiful craftsman home built in a new trendy neighborhood. The Cape Cod styling made it stand out in a sea of brick look-alikes. We couldn’t afford it. We left depressed. Months passed and on a whim I looked up the house listing online to see if it was still for sale. It was and they had lowered the price – considerably. David and I talked on the phone while he drove home one night and determined we still couldn’t afford it. When he walked in the door and proclaimed, “I called the Realtor and told them I wanted to make an offer.” I was dumbfounded. Our thinking was that we would throw out a low-ball offer that we knew we could afford but that the seller would never go for. The Realtor then informed us that she actually was pretty optimistic that the seller would accept.
Crap.
David shifted gears and started doing what David does best – analyzing all of our financial options. He swiveled his imaginary green accountant visor and went to work. For days he called insurance agents, mortgage lenders, family members, banks, etc. He created spreadsheets and worked every angle of our budget front and back. Depending on where in the process he was we were either buying the house or too poor to still afford it. His emotions swung from elation to disappointment. And this, this frantic energy with the calculator and the pen, this hyper-detail analysis of our spending, this is why God brought us together. I would be overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation and give up before I ever got started. David will turn over every financial rock a thousand times before he will feel comfortable making a decision. And because I know this about him I also know that I don’t have to worry about us making a bad decision.
With optimism and encouragement from our Realtor we submitted our offer and then waited. While I paced the floor begging David to follow up he calmly said “I’m not calling. I don’t want to look desperate.” His phone vibrated to life and he calmly answered. I anxiously bounced around as he uttered non-descriptive phrases like “uh-huh” and “I see” and “okay”. As I dreamed of bigger bedrooms, a linen closet that wasn’t in the shape of a triangle and a laundry room that actually was a room, David was serene. He hung up and said flatly; “the seller rejected the offer and provided no counter-offer. We were too low”. That was it. We knew we couldn’t offer more and the seller appeared to not want to budge. I was crushed. David was at peace.
It has taken me days to let the dream of bigger closets go while David has almost wistfully let the dream fade. And David’s seemingly calm attitude in the face of what feels like an avalanche of information is what makes him the perfect match for me. It is easier for me to let go of the disappointment knowing that the decision we made was well researched and thought out, and I know that because I trust David.
Baby #1 Vs Baby #3
Baby #1: The pregnancy test comes back positive and your emotional reaction is overwhelming. There are tears and squeals of joy. Phone calls are instantly made around the world announcing the glorious news.
Baby #3: The pregnancy test comes back positive and you exclaim in the privacy of your bathroom; “NO WAY!”
Baby #1: You instantly purchase every book on pregnancy, have calendars always within arms reach and can tell anybody at a moments notice how far along you are down to the minute, and where your baby is developmentally
Baby #3: You no longer keep track of time and assume that when the baby is done it will arrive. No reason to really think too much about it now.
Baby #1: You have the nursery decor selected, colors chosen, and themes identified before the end of the first trimester
Baby #3: If necessary the baby can sleep in a drawer. It is not like it will remember.
Baby #1: You practically throw a party on the day you realize you can no longer fit into your pants and MUST buy maternity clothes
Baby #3: You never really stopped wearing your maternity clothes from the first two pregnancies.
Baby #1: Every pregnancy symptom is greeted with excitement and confirmation of the growing miracle in your stomach
Baby #3: You find yourself cursing your husband and yourself for thinking another pregnancy was a good idea every time you wretch, or experience a leg cramp
Baby #1: Friends, family and doctors are so excited for you and share in the joy that is the innocence of not fully understanding the bomb that is about to explode in your life.
Baby #3: Friends, family and doctors look at you and ask “was this an accident or on purpose?”
Baby #1: Names are selected and properly engraved on every blanket, shirt, bottle and item in the nursery all before the end of the second trimester
Baby #3: A name? The baby needs a name?
Baby #1: Thinking about the new person joining your family makes you want to cry
Baby #3: Knowing that the new person joining your family will change you forever makes you want to cry
Gratitude
Sometimes an argument over a toy can lead me to say ugly words, causing my bottomless patience to vanish in a flash
Sometimes the simple sound of Max’s heavy breathing at night can awake worry and concern
Sometimes the smell of Lucy’s hair as it is nestled tightly under my nose can be comforting
Sometimes the non-stop prattle of school day stories from the back seat can disappear into the air with little acknowledgment from me.
Car pool, packing lunches, homework, breakfast, lunch, dinner, play time, clean up, stories and the days bleed together.
And then you hear it, read it, see it
Big eyes, small hands, sometimes with a look of fear, a look of resignation. Each story tells of loss, heart break and a child yearning for the love and comfort of a home like mine. And then the feeling starts to spread. You suddenly are reawakened to the subtle noise of craft projects, sibling squabbles, and the noise of your own children. The sounds of love, security and comfort. Sounds that these lost children, the children with no family or parents or future can only dream about.
I don’t worry about whether or not my children will eat.
I don’t worry about how safe it is for them to go to school.
I don’t worry if my children will be kidnapped or if bombs will destroy our house.
I’m grateful that my children won’t ever have to face the fear of an unknown future, go to bed hungry or worry about being cold at night. That gratitude, that sigh of relief we all release when watching the latest news story, is fleeting. We breath it, we mean it, but it is always short-lived. Perhaps this Thanksgiving I’ll try to be grateful for feeling more gratitude.
Once again, I am inspired by Scribbit’s Write Away Contest.
