Justin and I were out running errands the Saturday before Father's Day. I asked him to drive through this neighborhood that I've always loved. The last "new" neighborhood in our town. I prefer old homes, but Justin definitely prefers new construction. We saw a brand-new home with a for sale sign in the yard. I called the builder, who answered, and gave me the code to go see the house. She also added that the price was negotiable. We both loved the house and over dinner that night decided we were ready to sell our home. My first house that I've always been so proud of. We met with a realtor (who we love by the way) a couple of days later and less than 24 hours after our house went on the market we had a full price offer. We even celebrated that fact. The celebration did not last long. By the following Monday we were made aware that "negotiable" didn't really mean that. Not in our minds anyway. We looked at a few homes and realized we weren't in fact ready to leave. No big deal we thought. Surely they'll back out during the option period after we decline to make any repairs or give any allowance to do so. Surely. Or maybe our house won't appraise. Somethings gotta give.
Of course they proceeded every step of the way. Reality began to sink in over time, but it was not until we were informed that they were not negotiating the close date (which they had asked us to do) out "of spite" for us, that things really began to unravel emotionally for me. Our buyers were very upset that we did not make any repairs, so they chose to "punish" us. To essentially kick us out of our own home. The house that I've called home for 6.5 years. The house that I brought sweet Avery home to only days after moving in. The house that I've hosted countless showers, dinner parties and family holidays. The house that watched Justin and I's relationship bloom. The house we came back to after our honeymoon and made our home instead of my home. Our house on Trailwood Drive has quite literally sheltered me from so many things over the last six years. It's been my refuge and now I'm losing that. Losing something I've taken so much pride in calling my own. I'm just simply heartbroken.
The movers are coming next week. We are fortunate enough to have generous friends who have opened up there home to us. We're storing most of our things in a POD until we have a permanent home. We're looking. Obsessively looking, but we have no idea when our new home will pop up. What I do know are these things:
- God's got his hands all over this. The sermon last week could not have been more direct to Justin and I. "You have faith like Abraham when you are willing to leave when God calls you, live where God leads you and long for what God promises you." That was at the bottom of our sermon notes last Sunday. Doesn't get more convicting than that.
- We have so many people who love us. Who have offered boxes, packing help, dinner and even cupcakes ;)
- Justin and I have each other (and little Avery) to lean on. We're in this together and even though this is by far the toughest thing we've endured in our eleven months of marriage, it's making us stronger as a couple. Without question.
- No home on this earth is a permanent home. For anyone. We take comfort in that.
