A house came into our lives this week, but the story isn’t really about the house.
God dropped a house into our lap this week.
It’s the kind of house we dreamed about finding last year when we got married, but the prices, the availability, and ultimately, the timing just weren’t right.
But it is now.
If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that sometimes, closed doors are an act of mercy. What feels late to us can feel like an exercise in patience as we wait for the right moment to arrive.
I won’t go into all the details, but the house is connected to my friend Shawn, who died in 2022. And that makes it even more special – special in a way that I got emotional as I walked through it this week with my wife, Clarissa.
The next day, I drove by the house with Mom, who will continue to live with us, as will Clarissa’s mom, when we move in a couple of months. I wanted to give my mom a feel for the place – for the neighborhood, which happens to be close to the one she grew up in so many years ago. I picked up my phone and snapped the picture you see above. I love how the camera focused on her, not the house.
That seems fitting somehow.
The blessing isn’t just moving to a new place that is connected to Shawn. It’s how well the new place will accommodate our family moving forward.
Clarissa and I love our big apartment in the woods, but it isn’t all that practical. It has been a good home for this season, and I’m grateful for it. But gratitude for one season doesn’t mean you have to stay there forever.
My mom turns 90 next week, and stairs are a chore for her. Our current place has lots of stairs. This new place is level, with only two steps to enter. That alone feels like a gift.
The kitchen opens directly onto a large, covered deck where family and friends can gather, visit, laugh and enjoy the outdoors together. I can already imagine conversations there on cool evenings and quiet mornings with coffee in hand.
The basement has recently been remodeled into a mother-in-law apartment, which, ironically, is exactly what Clarissa and I hoped to find last year during our housing search. We wanted to live in the mother-in-law apartment, while allowing our mothers-in-law to take the main level. I know, it’s out of the ordinary, but hey, that’s who we are.
Then there’s this: Clarissa’s mom has always wanted a window above the kitchen sink so she could enjoy the view while doing dishes. The new place not only has a window, but one that looks out over flower beds in the backyard.
Oh, and I have a feeling that Shawn’s old fire pit (which his family graciously gifted to me) will be back in service at the new place. It’s been sitting dormant on our deck since we got married. Tears will probably flow, and I won’t even try to stop them.
Sometimes God’s gifts don’t arrive as luxury. They arrive as suitability. As timing. As a home that makes love easier to practice.
