Of Details and Dream Homes

I've been crying a lot lately. 

Not like all-day sob-fests, but a minute here, a minute there--just enough to wet the steering wheel when my new favorite song, Counting My Blessings by Seph Schlueter, comes on the radio in the school carline. By the time the kids are in the car, the evidence is all dried up, but the crossing guard might have gotten a show. This song has been hitting me hard. 

The more that I look in the details, the more of Your goodness I find.--SS

To explain my delicate emotions, let me fill you in on a few of my details. 

The first detail is that I'm house-hunting. Well, sort of. We're intending to move when school gets out, so we're basically voyeuring on Zillow without any actual buying power until we can list and sell our current home. 

The second detail is that the other day I found my dream home. 

Technically my husband found it. He had this wild look in his eye as he began to turn his phone screen in my direction. "If we really wanted to blow things out of the water and double down on the forever-home concept--" 

"Don't show me," I said dismissively.  I hate the term forever home because it implies I have control over how long I'll be in a place. I don't know much, but I know my only forever home is Heaven. 

Just a few hours before this, we had been in firm agreement that we would only entertain homes that were within a reasonable budget, and I saw no reason to be tempted by something that would break the bank.

But my resolve was short-lived. I caved. I looked. I lingered.

The house had everything. 

The finishings were fabulous. The kitchen was gorgeous and gourmet. But that's not what drew me in. 

The commute to my husband's new job would be the length of a song, and not the extended version. The floors had no strand of carpet to be found (I'm weird). The spaces were exactly what we'd been saying we wished we could find. There was enough yard out back for all 5 of our kids to play soccer, do cartwheels, run free. And then (remember I said I was weird?) there was the driveway. 

I dream of having enough driveway space that when my kids are all grown and have their own cars (and potentially spouses and children), they could all come home at the same time without us having to figure out some sort of shuttle system. I don't know about your neighborhood, but mine has driveways the size of a Monopoly box, and parking is "not allowed" on the street. 

The driveway on the dream home wasn't grand or regal or really spectacular in any way, but it was long and had a reasonable gravel pad in the back. And I was in love. 

The third detail is that my mom was a Realtor--the kind of Realtor who had nearly every real estate credential conceivable on her business card. She LOVED being a Realtor. 

I say was and had and loved because about a year and a half ago the Lord called her to her ultimate dream home. 

During the roughly 16 months from diagnosis to death and most of the 18 months since, I have been overwhelmed with the presence of God in the details. There has been so, so much of His goodness to find. 

But since we started stalking the real estate websites and making all our crazy lists of "must haves" and "must not haves" and "it's not a deal-breaker, but . . . s," I've been finding her in all the details. And feeling her absence in them. Wishing she were here listening to all my laundry lists of longings, humoring me, knowing I'm really not as Buyerzilla and irrational as I sound, assuring me we'll find the diamond in the rough.

The fourth detail is that I've lived hundreds of miles away from my hometown for the last fifteen or so years. It was always my mom's dream that I would move back. It was always mine, too. And now,  we're theoretically five months away from making that dream a reality, only she's not there. 

I can't think of anything she would have loved more than helping me find a new home in my old state--other than having a burger-night-worship-song dance party in it with all the grandkids. 

So I've been a little teary. 

When the dream home went from just listed to under contract within three days, I couldn't stop myself from thinking if only she were here, she'd find a way to get the sellers to sell to us instead . . . with a five-month delay . . .  at a 200K discount. These things totally happen, right?

But all that hasn't been the bulk of my tears. 

The fifth detail is that I've been struggling with whether I should pray about the dream home. It's not lost on me that the purchase of any home is a luxury, let alone one that has closets big enough to be houses in some countries.

One night I felt Holy Spirit say pray about it, but I couldn't do it. 

Confronted with my consumerism and covetousness, I felt dirty. Does God really want me to pray that we'll find a house that's "big enough" for our 7-person family, while families of 12 or 14 sleep in one room on dirt floors?

I can rationalize a mystery benefactor gifting the dream home to my family for no apparent reason before I can rationalize that.  But I know that pray about it is always the right answer. God can always say no, but at least then we'd be having a conversation. 

So I started praying about it. I began by boldly asking for this specific (highly out of reach) house, which led to earnestly asking that God would help us find a home that would bless us and help us to be a blessing to others. Now I'm humbly asking God to change my heart to be aligned with His in whatever plans He has for us. 

But the thing that has been impressed on my heart in all this is this: God is in the details. 

There's no prayer too insignificant when our heart is submitted. 

I've been grieving that I can't go to my mom with all my silly whims and desires, but I can always go to God. Just like I could be real with her about my dreams because she truly knew me, I can be real with God because he stitched me together in her womb. There's nothing in my life or in my heart that He has missed. He knows I am ridiculous, and He loves me anyway. 

He may laugh at the triviality of the things I bring to Him, but if He does, He does so lovingly. His Spirit brings conviction, not condemnation.

We may end up living in a tent, but He will be there with us.

So as I pray, He keeps reminding me that He is in the details. 

That's the answer I keep receiving. The same thing I've found to be so true throughout all of my life and love and loss.  

This week the tears have been welling because when I hear Seph's words, I am reminded how very true they are:  

One, two, three

Up to infinity

I'd run out of numbers

Before I could thank you for everything 

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians  4:6-7