Sacred Homeownership: what if owning a home isn’t about living the American dream?

What if owning a home isn't about living the American dream?

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On November 15th, Tim and I will have owned our home for six months. To say that homeownership has been a process would be an understatement. We’ve repainted four rooms but still have unpacked boxes upstairs and random pieces of furniture jigsawed into our living room. We’ve been utterly mesmerized by the lifespan of our enormous grapevine and the abundance of stray cats who enjoy our backyard. We’ve been toilet papered, forked, and Saran wrapped all at one time but got cookies and a freshly mowed lawn out of the deal. Overall, I love having a house, but it’s certainly been an adventure.

First Time Homebuyers

If you hadn’t guessed by the post title, I recently (and by recently I mean this Spring. Parts of this post were drafted before my pregnancy blogging hiatus.) finished reading my first book by Gary Thomas – the author behind Sacred Marriage, Sacred Parenting, Sacred Pathways, and Simply Sacred among others. His books focus on the idea that God uses the ordinary to shape our souls. After about a week, I could attest that homeownership is one of those ordinary things that God uses to make us look more like Him.

I woke up multiple times during that first week wondering what the heck we had done. Paying for laundry, putting up with blasting techno music and our neighbors garish holiday decorations began to seem like a paltry trade-off for endless cleaning and unpacking. The first time we ran our washing machine, the bathtub filled up with chunky, gray water. After all the dollar signs involved with buying a house, that couple hundred we paid to have a plumber deal with the roots that were apparently choking our pipes almost put me over the edge.

Our first month of homeownership confirmed that a key to a new house doesn’t unlock the American dream. Homeownership has, however, been part of the refining process of our relationship and level of responsibility.

Sacred HomeownershipI wasn’t at my best during those first few weeks (and some subsequent weeks after) of homeownership. For this perfectionist, unpacking was almost worse than packing. I was stressed and tired and, come to find out, newly pregnant. All of which necessitated a huge extra helping of grace. I am still learning to humbly accept my energy limits and welcome Tim’s gentle reminders that resting is important.

Not only did the physical tasks of setting up our home stretch and strengthen our relationship, so also did talking through the philosophy behind owning our home. Our desire was to have an open-handed approach to homeownership, knowing full well that this house was God’s gift, not a right. In that, we needed to discuss where our priorities were: how we wanted to use the house and how simply we wanted to live. Communication is something I admittedly struggle with, so those conversations didn’t come naturally but continue to refine who we are as a couple and who we are as followers of Christ.

Our newest sacred-maker is more practical. We are in the process of redoing the flooring in our entire house. The emerald green carpet is being replaced with a nice neutral and the vinyl is being upgraded to a wood finish. But those aesthetic improvements come with a price tag. Money is often a source of contention for couples and though Tim and I see eye-to-eye on most financial matters, forking over large sums of money generally stresses me out. We had to revamp our existing budget (hooray for money dates!) and commit to a more reserved lifestyle to factor in this expense over the next six months.

More communication. More teamwork.

All this communication and teamwork has been beneficial – not easy, but beneficial. We’ve learned about stewardship and maintaining a healthy relationship under stress. I didn’t necessarily sign up for homeownership with those two things in mind, but God has a way of using the ordinary for His purposes.

More sacred.

Can introverts and extroverts actually do life together?

Expanded discussion guides for Bread and Wine{This post was prompted by a question in Bread and Wine discussion guide, part 2.}

After planning for an hour or so our conversation turned serious. Just a couple feet of table separated us but it felt a little like miles and miles sat between us. As she filled me in on some of the tough stuff that was happening in her life, I sat in silence. My hands rested around my empty coffee cup and I wished there was at least a drop so I could do something other than stare.

I was already formulating what I would say before her voice petered out. In situations like this, my friends are generally looking for advice, so I went about scripting my opinion. It was probably my lack of any response that prompted her to ask, “what do you think?” And the flood gates of my opinion opened on this hurting woman I had only known for a month or two.

My spouting sputtered out and an uncomfortable silence settled. In the batting of one of her long eyelashes she was back to business as usual, firming up the plans we had been discussing previous to her moment of vulnerability. As our meeting drew to a close, I couldn’t ignore that sinking, icky feeling developing in my gut, the sign you know you’ve messed up. I knew I had missed the mark with my response…

Can extroverts do life with introverts?Since reading Shauna Niequist’s first book, Cold Tangerines, I have held her commitment to honesty and vulnerability in the mess of life in high esteem (okay, maybe idolized it a bit). I wanted to be a person who could be real with others and wasn’t afraid to slog through the mud with broken people, my own self included. In my efforts to do life with this new friend, even those messy bits, I hadn’t paused to consider who she was and what she actually needed. I wanted to approach the mess with a vacuum cleaner and make it disappear.

As an introvert, my natural tendency is to listen, observe, analyze, and make suggestions based on those three things. Because I don’t offer a multitude of words, I like to make the one’s I say count. I realized I had pushed my own agenda (in my advice) and my own strengths (in delivery) onto an extrovert who really just needed to verbally process. My mishap made me wonder if it was even possible for someone like me to do life properly with someone like her.

An apology and various discussions later, we are still doing life together. God is teaching me that being messy with people is just that, messy! As much as I’d like to, I can’t just cross “do life together” off my daily chores list. It’s a process, just like life is a process.

And you know what? Our differing personality types had little to do with my missing the mark (as much as I’d like to place the blame somewhere else…). I missed the mark because I wanted to stay comfortable. She was looking for someone to express love and give prayers, not someone to analyze the situation.

Doing life with people is less about compatibility and more about sacrifice and humility.

The mess becomes a beautiful mess when we are able to put our preferences aside, admit our weaknesses, and love others how they need to be loved.

PS – Shauna talks about her own mess-up in ministering to a friend in “Cupcake in The Oven.” (from Bread and Wine)

PPS – This girl and I are still friends and understand each other better and better as we do life together :)

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If you missed them:

my times are in Your hands

It doesn’t get easier. Weeks have turned into months and I still worry. These monthly OB appointments sneak up on me and yet I’m always wishing one would come sooner so I can get the professional A-Ok. I worry about preterm labor, gaining too much weight, getting my blood drawn for that dang gestational diabetes test, and James’ overall health.

I often wish I could skip ahead 16 weeks, skip ahead to the part where the dreaded labor and delivery are behind us, where James is home, and Tim and I are jumping into life with a newborn.  But then I begin worrying about colic and breast feeding and the mountain of things I don’t know about babies. It doesn’t get easier. I’m beginning to realize that parenting is one of those roles where causes for anxiety never stop. I look long term at James’ life and see endless opportunities for me to worry about his wellbeing, inside and out. All this worry and it doesn’t produce anything but more worry and unrest.

As a follower of Christ, I am familiar with biblical truths about worry. I know that tomorrow will worry about itself (Matthew 6:34), that if God cares about the little things like lilies and sparrows, we should not worry about food or clothes because He will take care of us (Luke 12:22), that prayer and thanksgiving should replace worry (Philippians 4:6).

But when I’m in the midst of worrying, I need something to pull me out of, not warn me against, anxiety. After studying Psalm 31 on a recent retreat, I have found that something. David utters a simple truth that has become and almost daily mantra in the face of my worry – “my times are in your hands.”

Psalm 3114-15aMy times, James’ times, my family’s times are all in God’s almighty hands. I can release my firm grip on every circumstance that causes me anxiety, even if it’s one finger at a time, because I trust in the Lord. He IS my God.

You better bet I will be repeating this to myself at my OB appointment today…

 

When The Scales Tip

Next Tuesday I’m scheduled for my second ultrasound. Tim and I will get to see our little one again and find out if BG is a boy or a girl. We’ve been counting down the days to this doctor’s appointment. It was incredible to see the small nugget of a person being formed at 8 weeks, so seeing his/her progress at 20 weeks is thrilling.

I’m beyond excited. And beyond terrified.

scales

I shouldn’t be; there’s no reason for me to be alarmed. My pregnancy has been pretty smooth thus far. I was nauseous during the first three months but have yet to throw up, which for this barf-phobic gal is truly praiseworthy. All of my check-ups have gone splendidly – BG’s heart rate, my weight gain and blood pressure are all on track. I’ve been able to travel without complications. Tim is a sweet father-to-be and an exceedingly patient husband during this season.

But, I’m still terrified. The precious life Tim and I created is fragile, just like ours. There is no guarantee of health and safety. A multitude of things could go wrong in the next 20 weeks I carry our babe, some of which could be revealed next week at the ultrasound. The what-ifs are endless: mental handicaps, genetic diseases, physical deformities, a dangerous labor and delivery.

In my anxiety I tend to view God as a lawyer with His scales, apportioning blessings and catastrophes to each person, making sure that all is in balance. Despite the fact that I know this image of God doesn’t hold any weight scripturally, it feeds my worry. Subconsciously I think since I’ve had a good pregnancy thus far, I’m due for something to go wrong…

But God doesn’t use scales. We aren’t in a system of checks and balances. The truth is that bad things do happen. The doctors could find something wrong during my ultrasound. Labor could be horrific. I could develop some sort of third trimester barf reflex.

God doesn’t promise smooth sailing. He promises grace and love and strength and peace and healing. Grace that can cover our messy. Love that can stitch up our wounds. Strength that can get us through the unthinkable. Peace that can calm our irrational fears. Healing that brings new life.

In my excitement and terror, that’s where I want to camp out. I want to pitch my tent in green pastures, by still waters. God doesn’t dish out the good and the bad. He is Immanuel, God with us, in the good and the bad.

photo credit: procsilas via photopin cc

Home and Choosing Joy

It’s been over a week since Tim and I returned from New York and I’m still recovering – less from jet lag (though there was plenty of that) and more from the emotions of leaving a place and people I dearly love.

Every trip to my now beloved Central New York leaves me more and more bewitched by a certain little lake and the rural landscape that seems to shout simplicity. Now more than ever it’s a place to relive good memories, spend time with family, and relax.

After spending 8 days in my happy place, I was hard pressed to keep my return flight. I’m convinced that if I wasn’t returning in a month, Tim might have been flying to Idaho by himself. Well, and the fact that I would miss him terribly… Despite the fact that I am returning so soon, the end of this trip was bittersweet.

I’ve finally reached the point where I don’t consider Southern California home only to have it supplanted, not by Idaho, but by New York. Our trip wasn’t just a vacation, it was like going home – and leaving home is always difficult for me.

Dueling Lakes

The first couple days back in Coeur d’Alene were tough. I was wrestling with desires I knew couldn’t become reality at present and a present reality I thus had a bad attitude toward. I’m still wrestling with the former, but the latter was improved by a realization, and resulting choice, I had last Friday.

Tim was preaching at our church’s Father Daughter Camp. The 45 minute drive to Camp Cocolalla (great name, right?) is rather lovely. As Tim remarked on the pretty sky and the setting sun shining through the copious pine trees, I found myself not wanting to agree. I actually did find the landscape quite pleasing, but didn’t want to admit it for fear it diminished my appreciation for New York’s natural beauty.

I was purposefully holding out on the truth in order to make a point.

Where did that get me? Nowhere except for Sulkville. Despite the fact that Sulkville was initially soothing to my bruised desires, I knew it wasn’t a place I could live indefinitely. God and Tim know my desires without me being pouty to make a point.

My choice was obvious: I could remain gloomy or choose joy. Though I am not always successful, I am trying to choose joy. For me this means seeking and acknowledging the little treasures around me – the scent of Fall in the air, pine trees and thunderstorms, new friends and building community.

Just because I acknowledge the things I really enjoy about the present doesn’t mean I have to abandon my desires. It DOES mean that I surrender those desires to God and continue to give thanks for His many treasures.