Becoming Home

Several days into our new adventure, standing amid unpacked boxes and unexpected repair bills, I realized something surprising. Years ago, this would have consumed me.

She was right. We should have listened.

Oh yes — we heard our realtor say over and over again, “What I want for you guys is to find a place you love where you can relax and not have to work hard or spend a lot of money to make it what you want it to be.”

She was right. We should have listened.

We were caught up in the rustic appeal and sentimentality of this one-of-a-kind house. Against the backdrop of natural rock layers and a forested hillside, we saw ourselves stepping back to a simpler time, close to all the natural things we love. Nothing seemed too difficult or beyond our ability.

We should have known when we saw the seller’s reaction at the closing when we told them we had begun moving our belongings and planned to spend the night at the house. They were obviously surprised by that, though we couldn’t understand why. At least, not until we walked through the door.

The owners may have come periodically to mow, but as far as we could tell, they did little more than that. The house, which had sat vacant for years, had barely been touched. Nothing had been cleaned up, a common courtesy we took for granted. The floors were dirty, the refrigerator was disgusting, and that was just the beginning.

The newest item in the house seemed to be the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. Apparently, the toilet had demanded replacement. The sinks, however, had been left to wage their own losing battle against rust and time.

And it’s a good thing I don’t have arachnophobia. Cobwebs were everywhere — some still occupied by their original owners.

Second to the cobwebs were the rusted nails and screws. Some had a purpose, but most were random, like in the door of the utility room. It looked as though someone had retrieved the boards from a scrap yard with bent and rusty nails embedded in them and then installed them in the house in that condition. Why would anyone do that?

We knew we had to replace the water heater per our insurance company’s requirements, and I managed this task while John and his son made another trip back to Florida. The water heater replacement led to our first significant expense. A damp load of clothes and a blank display on the new water heater signaled the trouble. I would later learn from the electrician that both the dryer and the water heater were connected to the same circuit breaker, which had, of course, tripped and shut both appliances off.

Unfortunately, the power problems didn’t end there. Our breaker box was woefully inadequate for the electrical demand of the house. It would also need to be rewired and upgraded.

Several days into our new adventure, standing amid unpacked boxes and unexpected repair bills, I realized something surprising. Years ago, this would have consumed me.

My ability to maintain a cheerful outlook has improved through the years. As a younger woman, I had little patience — still don’t, if truth be told — for what to me was incompetence I saw everywhere. The smallest offense, misinformation, or mishandling of a situation would set me off. The less pleasant side of me emerged like the Hulk, green and angry. But unlike the Hulk, I used my God-given ability for articulation. I was seldom at a loss for words, and some slipped over my tongue cutting and disdainful.

Over time, I leaned more into my relationship with God, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. My faith, which had been tested severely over the years by the loss of my beloved mother, my husband, and my sweet dad, not to mention my multiple myeloma diagnosis and the health battle that ensued, became the anchor that held me steady and forced me to rely on a power greater than my own.

Surrender. He wanted me to surrender my will. My weak, faulty, arrogant will that placed an invisible barrier between myself and His guidance and freedom for me — freedom from strife and worry, anxiety, fear, and anger.

I have given it up although there is still a sliver of that consciousness that creeps in and tries to wreak havoc with my life. I have found such peace and contentment despite the burning arrows Satan hurls at me. There is nothing that gives me greater hope than knowing this world is not my permanent home and that one day I will stand in the presence of Almighty God.

For now, I am here on this beautiful, forested hillside amidst the creatures that call it home. I find solace in birdsong, chipmunks, deer, turtles, hawks, and herons. Even the skinks, snails, and snakes have their place and make my heart smile. Fireflies blinking among the trees at dusk like tiny beacons remind me of the miracle of God’s creation. The whistle of the train passing in the near distance draws me back to memories of simpler times.

This place is a gift — one we don't deserve and don't want to waste. God entrusted this beautiful hillside to our care for a season, and while we're here, we hope to honor Him by tending it well. Little by little, it is becoming home.

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