619 Arthur

For the last several weeks I've been anticipating writing this post.  I didn't know exactly when I was going to be able to, and I was starting to think it was going to be several more weeks of waiting.  But... here it is.

Ever since we decided to move to Grand Island, we knew there would be a few hurdles to jump.  A few, very tall hurdles.  First, Jason needed a job.  And in a time already saturated with secondary Social Studies teachers that now has seen teachers laid off, this was no small obstacle.  Thanks to Central City Public check it off our list.  Next on the "To Do" list, sell our house.  Easy enough, right?  Check.  Then there was this small thing about having a baby.  Check.  Last on the agenda: find a place to live in Grand Island.  Of all things, this should have been the easiest.

Like a good type "A" personality, I wrote out my requirements for our next home.  Early on we decided it would be better to rent and avoid buying again.  Even if the interest rates are at an all time low, the  thought of selling a house again in two years was enough to deter us.  So requirement number one: a rental.  I thought the rest of my must-have's were just as reasonable: a house (or property with a yard), three or more bedrooms on one floor, basement or garage, rent under $1000 even though we could stretch a little for the "perfect" place, and location, location, location.

Weeks and weeks went by.  My computer got tired of going from craigslist to The Independent rental section every hour, and my phone was exhausted from calling landlords, dead end leads, and real estate agents.  Nothing seemed to be going our way.  There just isn't anything to rent in G.I.  After countless phone calls and even after making a special trip with 19-month and 1-week old boys just to look a few prospects, only one house even met our criteria.  Unfortunately, that too fell short as someone else snatched it out from under our feet.  Back to square one.  Again.  And again.

As much as we tried to keep doors and possibilities open, there was always this voice telling me not to settle.  Don't settle on this, Susan.  He has a plan for you.  Don't settle.  Great house, wrong location - don't settle.  Good price, too small - don't settle.  Eventually, we started calling banks to talk about mortgages thinking that maybe we were wrong and buying was what we should do.  But there was still that feeling in my gut and in my heart that what we wanted was out there.  Just wait.

The weeks, then days, then hours passed.  The moment to close on 6228 I street was here.  The big, yellow Penske truck was in our drive way.  Our earthly possessions fit not-so-neatly in boxes.  Half of the boxes labeled "S," for Steve, and the other half "R," for Rose.  Half destined for my dad's garage the other for my mom's.  The shirts of our family and friends were dripping with sweat as the last box was loaded into that yellow truck on the hottest day of the year.  Grand Island, ready or not, here we come.

My mom and I loaded the boys into the Buick.  You could hardly see their precious faces in the back seat from the toys and bags that surrounded them.  I double, and triple checked that nothing was going to topple on them before I hopped into the front seat.  Holding back the tears, I took my last glimpse of our house, said good-bye to Jason who was staying behind for the night to make sure closing went seamlessly, and then pulled down the street.

With all the chaos of moving day, it hadn't even crossed my mind to check my phone or email.  But now with some down time in the car, I pulled out my Droid.  (Don't worry, Mom was driving.)  The green light was flashing, eager to share the messages I had missed.  Missed calls.  Voice mail.  Then email.  That's my usual routine.  Then I came upon the email.  The email that changed everything.  The email that I swear was sent from God himself.

susan

would you still like to rent my house

your second has become first

please call

thanks

That was it - seventeen words (plus a name and phone number), no punctuation.  This was the house.  The house that met all of our criteria.  The house that was pulled out from under us.  The house.  Once I popped my eyes back into their sockets and picked my jaw up off the floor I dialed the number.  Sure enough, it wasn't a cruel joke.  If we wanted it, it would be ours.  We arranged a meeting the next morning - 10:00 AM.  Then I asked the crucial question, "We actually just loaded up our truck today and are moving to Grand Island tomorrow.  Would it be possible to move in tomorrow afternoon?"  The answer: "Absolutely!"

No moving into garages.  No living out of my mom's basement.  No more pack-n-play for Griffin.  No dread of moving twice.  Hallelujah!

The next morning, just as I expected, I loved the house, and by 10:26-AM I was holding the keys to 619 S Arthur.  Oddly enough, I have a feeling that the people who bought our house in Omaha had their hands on a new set of keys at that same time.

You just can't make stuff like this up.  Craziness!  I told you, He had a plan.  You know what else, that same gut-feeling that reminded me all of those times not to settle also told me that not only would we find something that met all of our criteria, we would also find it before we moved.  Faith like a mustard seed, and doubt like a mountain.  Even so, He had a plan.  I am blown away by His plan.