A Place to Lay Our Heads?
What a ride we have been on the last couple of days! This tale isn't long, but for us it has been full of ups and downs. I won't waste a bunch of your time with a long intro and besides, I can't think of a good transition anyway.
The church we will soon be attending has a great parsonage next door. There's a parking lot and nice grassy play area that separates the two, but it is easily accessible for my hubby, which is a big deal when you are blind and rely on others to drive you around. The only problem? It is a cape cod; two bedrooms and one bath on the main floor and a big open room upstairs with no bathroom. No problem for most families. We, however, are just a little larger than the 2.2 kid average that is prevalent in America. Curt saw the one bathroom and I could see the tears form. OK, maybe not, but in my overactive imagination that's how I picture the scene going down.
All this doesn't really matter, except to say, the church decided to build on to the parsonage and put us up in a rental home until it is finished. We had been looking at houses to possibly purchase while the church decided what to do and the kids and I FELL IN LOVE with a home just off the square in Canton. It was AWESOME. Seriously. AWE-SOME. 5 bedrooms, 4 baths, extra kitchen upstairs (this would become our schoolroom) and it is 3200 square feet. Yes, you read that correctly. 3200 square feet!!
A call was made, the owners said, "Why, yes, we would love to rent you our incredibly beautiful, big, gorgeous, spacious, old home for an extremely reasonable amount of money, because we love the Lord, too." Or something like that...
Everyone agreed it was a great opportunity, but WAIT! The house next door to the parsonage just went up for sale and those owners would be willing to rent to us. It is slightly more money and a little smaller (like, you could fit 2 1/2 of that house inside the big house, but whatever), but it is in the neighborhood we will live and much closer to the church. Whatcha think?
<insert major sigh here>
So, for several days our current home was a place of great depression. The kids had dreams of sitting on window seats and reading for hours every day. There were dreams of big bedrooms and no fighting over who used the bathroom first. Suddenly, all of that was going down the proverbial drain in a hurry.
And silently, we were all pretty angry at Dad for even considering this other house as an option.
Then the best thing EVER happened (or not "ever" but close enough for us at the time). The home owners on the house next to the parsonage received an offer on their house and POOF, we no longer need to worry. It is all smiles again in the Ebert home and we start labeling boxes appropriately for the nice, big, "do we really need this much room?" house.
The ladies of the church planned to go and clean before our move in date (I didn't tell them, but that would be the only time it was clean, my cleaning skills are sadly lacking. I blame the kids) and a couple gentlemen of the church go and move the furniture and refrigerators (It had been used as apartments for college students the year before) to the attic. We were relaxed and content and getting excited about the move.
Then, we received a phone call. As the ladies were at the big house cleaning, a couple had come through for a second viewing of the house with both sets of their parents. They have 4 kids and want more children and this house is perfect for them. They were going to place an offer on it soon.
Seriously?
It's Monday. We move in 5 days. We have no place to live.
The ladies packed up their cleaning supplies and headed to the parsonage. Plan B was in effect. We could live in the parsonage while looking for a place to rent until renovation time.
<sigh>
Suddenly every word Curt spoke about getting rid of more stuff because it won't fit at the parsonage, was ringing through my ears. I'm going to have to go through every box personally and decide if it needs to go to storage or be used in the parsonage and we have already moved an entire trailer of boxes and furniture to Canton which I will have to sort when we get there on Saturday and I am about to LOSE MY MIND.
Kind of.
I was actually pretty calm. Curt wasn't. He never grew up without. He had three toilets to choose from in a big spacious house, which contained him, and his parents, for the majority of his life. Having a brother and sister that is quite a bit older than Curt gave him lots of space. I, on the other hand, grew up in a tiny, and I mean tiny, three bedroom ranch with one bathroom and no basement. Alone time? What's that?
Curt was panicked. Not kidding. He'll say otherwise, but anyone around that day, or anyone he called, could have seen or heard it.
I was put on, "Find us a house to rent and quit packing" mode. One would think that is an easy job. It's not. There are zero homes listed in Canton for rent. In order to find a home, one must find a vacant house, call that particular realtor, the realtor calls the home owner, the home owner discusses it with their husband/wife, calls the realtor back, who then calls you with the information.
This process takes hours and sometimes days. I spent Monday on the computer and phone while my house blew up around me. Boxes that were partially packed were being systematically unpacked by my littles and the older two couldn't stay focused long enough to finish a job, while I am trying to find a quiet spot to discuss rental possibilities, rent agreements and vacancies.
It sucked (Sorry Mom. No other word describes it better)
I was able to talk with a realtor that was incredibly helpful. She knew of a home that might fit our needs and she believed the owners would be willing to rent. She gave me the address, I looked it up online and I am pretty sure the angels were singing in glory when the pictures popped up on the screen.
A newer home, in an incredibly beautiful neighborhood, closer to the church, 5 bedrooms, 2700 square feet of living space AND the very best part..... a pool!
How. Awesome. Would. That. BE?!?!?!?!?!?!?
She'd make contact and get back to us.
We wait. And wait. And wait.
Monday evening goes by. Monday night goes by. Tuesday morning comes and goes. Nothing. I finally called around noon and asked if she had heard from the home owners. Nope. More waiting.
It is now Tuesday afternoon. No word. Curt starts making some phone calls asking others to ask around.
I remembered my cousin that lives in Canton and goes to the "big church" in town. One Facebook message sent, one reply received and she has a post on her wall with our cry for help. (You are incredible, Diane!)
And just minutes later I receive a message from my cousin. There's a widow, a member of our church in fact, that is living in Massachusetts, that would love to have us rent her home. The seller's agreement is up at the end of the month and she would just take it off the market until the parsonage was done.
We look it up, it is a little smaller, but would work out great for us. It backs up to woods and Gabe is showing signs of excitement for the first time since all of this began. Curt calls one of the trustees from Temple, he goes and takes a look at the house, says it looks good on his end and we have a house!
Then, the real estate agent calls and says the people with the "only in my dreams" house will rent to us for just $100 more than what we will be renting the house we just agreed upon.
When it rains, it pours. This can be a blessing or a curse and sometimes it is both.
Do we help this sweet widow out both financially and emotionally, allowing her to see how she is still able to serve, or do we selfishly go for the bigger house, knowing we will NEVER live in anything like that EVER?
I'm pretty sure you know what we decided.
Whether the big house was a test, a temptation, or a blessing from God, we won't know. It is evident that God's fingerprints are all over our getting in touch with this sweet widow. We'll be able to help her with her mortgage payments and she will know that she is helping the man that would have been her pastor, had she still lived here. It's a win, win.
Some would say it is all a nice coincidence and everything fell into place at the right time. Maybe, but I don't believe in coincidences, I believe in God.
And He knew all this would happen, long before Monday morning.
The church we will soon be attending has a great parsonage next door. There's a parking lot and nice grassy play area that separates the two, but it is easily accessible for my hubby, which is a big deal when you are blind and rely on others to drive you around. The only problem? It is a cape cod; two bedrooms and one bath on the main floor and a big open room upstairs with no bathroom. No problem for most families. We, however, are just a little larger than the 2.2 kid average that is prevalent in America. Curt saw the one bathroom and I could see the tears form. OK, maybe not, but in my overactive imagination that's how I picture the scene going down.
All this doesn't really matter, except to say, the church decided to build on to the parsonage and put us up in a rental home until it is finished. We had been looking at houses to possibly purchase while the church decided what to do and the kids and I FELL IN LOVE with a home just off the square in Canton. It was AWESOME. Seriously. AWE-SOME. 5 bedrooms, 4 baths, extra kitchen upstairs (this would become our schoolroom) and it is 3200 square feet. Yes, you read that correctly. 3200 square feet!!
A call was made, the owners said, "Why, yes, we would love to rent you our incredibly beautiful, big, gorgeous, spacious, old home for an extremely reasonable amount of money, because we love the Lord, too." Or something like that...
Everyone agreed it was a great opportunity, but WAIT! The house next door to the parsonage just went up for sale and those owners would be willing to rent to us. It is slightly more money and a little smaller (like, you could fit 2 1/2 of that house inside the big house, but whatever), but it is in the neighborhood we will live and much closer to the church. Whatcha think?
<insert major sigh here>
So, for several days our current home was a place of great depression. The kids had dreams of sitting on window seats and reading for hours every day. There were dreams of big bedrooms and no fighting over who used the bathroom first. Suddenly, all of that was going down the proverbial drain in a hurry.
And silently, we were all pretty angry at Dad for even considering this other house as an option.
Then the best thing EVER happened (or not "ever" but close enough for us at the time). The home owners on the house next to the parsonage received an offer on their house and POOF, we no longer need to worry. It is all smiles again in the Ebert home and we start labeling boxes appropriately for the nice, big, "do we really need this much room?" house.
The ladies of the church planned to go and clean before our move in date (I didn't tell them, but that would be the only time it was clean, my cleaning skills are sadly lacking. I blame the kids) and a couple gentlemen of the church go and move the furniture and refrigerators (It had been used as apartments for college students the year before) to the attic. We were relaxed and content and getting excited about the move.
Then, we received a phone call. As the ladies were at the big house cleaning, a couple had come through for a second viewing of the house with both sets of their parents. They have 4 kids and want more children and this house is perfect for them. They were going to place an offer on it soon.
Seriously?
It's Monday. We move in 5 days. We have no place to live.
The ladies packed up their cleaning supplies and headed to the parsonage. Plan B was in effect. We could live in the parsonage while looking for a place to rent until renovation time.
<sigh>
Suddenly every word Curt spoke about getting rid of more stuff because it won't fit at the parsonage, was ringing through my ears. I'm going to have to go through every box personally and decide if it needs to go to storage or be used in the parsonage and we have already moved an entire trailer of boxes and furniture to Canton which I will have to sort when we get there on Saturday and I am about to LOSE MY MIND.
Kind of.
I was actually pretty calm. Curt wasn't. He never grew up without. He had three toilets to choose from in a big spacious house, which contained him, and his parents, for the majority of his life. Having a brother and sister that is quite a bit older than Curt gave him lots of space. I, on the other hand, grew up in a tiny, and I mean tiny, three bedroom ranch with one bathroom and no basement. Alone time? What's that?
Curt was panicked. Not kidding. He'll say otherwise, but anyone around that day, or anyone he called, could have seen or heard it.
I was put on, "Find us a house to rent and quit packing" mode. One would think that is an easy job. It's not. There are zero homes listed in Canton for rent. In order to find a home, one must find a vacant house, call that particular realtor, the realtor calls the home owner, the home owner discusses it with their husband/wife, calls the realtor back, who then calls you with the information.
This process takes hours and sometimes days. I spent Monday on the computer and phone while my house blew up around me. Boxes that were partially packed were being systematically unpacked by my littles and the older two couldn't stay focused long enough to finish a job, while I am trying to find a quiet spot to discuss rental possibilities, rent agreements and vacancies.
It sucked (Sorry Mom. No other word describes it better)
I was able to talk with a realtor that was incredibly helpful. She knew of a home that might fit our needs and she believed the owners would be willing to rent. She gave me the address, I looked it up online and I am pretty sure the angels were singing in glory when the pictures popped up on the screen.
A newer home, in an incredibly beautiful neighborhood, closer to the church, 5 bedrooms, 2700 square feet of living space AND the very best part..... a pool!
How. Awesome. Would. That. BE?!?!?!?!?!?!?
She'd make contact and get back to us.
We wait. And wait. And wait.
Monday evening goes by. Monday night goes by. Tuesday morning comes and goes. Nothing. I finally called around noon and asked if she had heard from the home owners. Nope. More waiting.
It is now Tuesday afternoon. No word. Curt starts making some phone calls asking others to ask around.
I remembered my cousin that lives in Canton and goes to the "big church" in town. One Facebook message sent, one reply received and she has a post on her wall with our cry for help. (You are incredible, Diane!)
And just minutes later I receive a message from my cousin. There's a widow, a member of our church in fact, that is living in Massachusetts, that would love to have us rent her home. The seller's agreement is up at the end of the month and she would just take it off the market until the parsonage was done.
We look it up, it is a little smaller, but would work out great for us. It backs up to woods and Gabe is showing signs of excitement for the first time since all of this began. Curt calls one of the trustees from Temple, he goes and takes a look at the house, says it looks good on his end and we have a house!
Then, the real estate agent calls and says the people with the "only in my dreams" house will rent to us for just $100 more than what we will be renting the house we just agreed upon.
When it rains, it pours. This can be a blessing or a curse and sometimes it is both.
Do we help this sweet widow out both financially and emotionally, allowing her to see how she is still able to serve, or do we selfishly go for the bigger house, knowing we will NEVER live in anything like that EVER?
I'm pretty sure you know what we decided.
Whether the big house was a test, a temptation, or a blessing from God, we won't know. It is evident that God's fingerprints are all over our getting in touch with this sweet widow. We'll be able to help her with her mortgage payments and she will know that she is helping the man that would have been her pastor, had she still lived here. It's a win, win.
Some would say it is all a nice coincidence and everything fell into place at the right time. Maybe, but I don't believe in coincidences, I believe in God.
And He knew all this would happen, long before Monday morning.
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