Be vewy quiet…
… I’m hunting howses…
The Husband and I are continuing our house hunt, and I am about as confused as frustrated as Elmer Fudd would get when Bugs would cross-dress. Am I doing too much work? Should my realtor be doing more? Why isn’t The Husband seeing what I’m seeing? Should we be building?
The last time The Husband and I went hunting, we walked into a beautiful home in a great neighborhood. The floor plan was right. The size was right. I walked around and mentally placed my furniture, decorated the girls’ room, and arranged the office. While I was doing that, The Husband was pointing out that the porch was small. Very small. Very, very small.
Not wanting to cause a scene in front of our very patient realtor, I busied myself taking care of Li’l Bit. I may have pouted… I may have stomped a bit. Okay, so she probably could figure out that I was upset, but I didn’t say anything. I waited until we got home, and then I cried like a baby, left the house, phoned a friend, whined, then went on about my merry way. I had to go on about my merry way, because the friend I phoned gave me wise counsel and I could no longer feel sorry for myself and think nasty thoughts about The Husband.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, just last night The Husband came to me and the discussion went a little something like this:
HIM: The night we met, were you looking for a husband?
ME: [indignant] No! As a matter of fact, just a couple of days before I had prayed and told God I would be content with being single for as long as He wanted me to be!
HIM: So you were trusting God that He would bring the right man into your life?
HIM: Don’t you think He’ll do the same thing with our house? [exit stage left]
*sigh* For the record, he is right a lot. A LOT. It can be REALLY ANNOYING!
I started thinking about how house hunting was kind of like dating, because I love a good analogy. (Actually, it doesn’t even have to be good, I just like analogies.) I was thinking about when I was younger and I would date. I would go out with a guy and wonder, “Is he the one?” I would write my first name with his last name all over a piece of paper. With my middle name, with my maiden name. Mrs. Vanessa HisLastName. I would daydream about what our kids would look like.
Then, one horrible marriage and an abusive relationship later, I wised up. I needed to be pickier, to notice qualities that wouldn’t work for a long-term commitment. AND I most definitely needed to trust that God would show me the right one when he came along.
So, same thing with these houses I’m seeing. First and foremost, I do believe God will let The Husband and I know when it’s the right one. Just like the night we met. Or, if you don’t believe in love at first sight, on our second date, when we talked and talked and talked and found out that we had all the same ideas and hopes for our futures, and when I grabbed onto his hands to show my enthusiasm for something we were talking about, it seemed like electricity filled the room and…
Okay, back to real estate.
God will show us the right house. The Husband wants this just as bad as I do — he’s waited just as long. He also wants it to be right. He wants it to be a long term commitment. It’s worth it to be picky, and just see some of these houses once and then dump them. I don’t need to get all carried away and start doodling my name above the address on a college-ruled sheet of paper hidden in my Trapper Keeper.
I trust God, and I trust The Husband.
One day my House will come.