We're in the burbs. We're just far enough to have a driveway, but not so far we can't get to the city at a moments notice...roughly speaking. There are three Market Baskets within ten minutes, and when I bring a van load of groceries home-->I don't have to walk it up three flights of stairs while yelling at the kids to STAY AWAY FROM THE STREET OR YOU WILL GET RUN OVER!! B.daddy's commute is easier, and he even has a little nook in our home where he can work when needed. When I open our windows I don't hear the roar of road noise. I hear a church bell tolling the hours. We can still walk to the town square to get anything we need, which is usually Brazilian barbecue.
But there are days......
I'd consider selling a kidney or two, along with our house, just so we could live CLOSE to the city.
Then I wonder if I'm just thinking of the greener pastures of my past. I hated renting. Hated it. But I loved being able to hop a bus to Harvard Square, to walk up the street to the Danish Pastry House, living shoulder to shoulder with people who grew up in the North End. And I did not hate having someone to call when something came up. That was the only time I appreciated throwing thousands of dollars down the drain. Because then someone else was responsible if the house caved in on itself. Now we live in a house that is actually old enough to cave in on itself, and it is our full responsibility. My husband has on numerous occasions reminded me that since our house was built in 1832 and it is still standing, it's safe to assume it has stood the test of time and will not, in fact, spontaneously fall to the ground. A girl can worry though. Against all reason, I worry that everything will come crashing down and we'll be in deep doodoo.
So this whole home-ownership thing has become more of a refining process than I ever thought it would be. I was so excited to finally have Our Own House. I understood the responsibilities we'd be adding to our repertoire; we WANTED an old house to fix up and make our own. But I hadn't actually lived it yet, hadn't stood in the kitchen wondering, What in the world do we do first? Heck, I hadn't even seen the house yet. This house has drawn me to prayer like never before. I prayed my heart out to get us in, and now I pray ceaselessly that we will not be buried beneath it.
After all this rambling, I don't know that I have any grand take-away. All I know is that I have to pray constantly so that I won't lose my mind in worry and fear. In the end it is just a house. And even if we do lose everything through some sad course of events, we will not be alone. The Lord will always provide and care for us, and we have family and friends just crazy enough to let us rely on them in times of need. So after this recurring cycle of discontent followed by worry I land on, We are blessed. We are going to be okay, and we are blessed.
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