Provision

We close on our house tomorrow morning. I will sign my name something like one million times. It's a big heavy weighty thing that's about to happen, but even more so, it's liberating and exciting and inspiring.

To say that I was "intimidated" by the house buying experience is an understatement. I am partly programmed and partly trained to ask "what if?" What if one of us loses a job? What if taxes jump uber high? What if we get called into the mission field and have to sell all our worldly belongings but we can't sell the house? What if something happens to Keith? What if we start a family and have a kid with special needs? What if the water heater breaks? What if the neighborhood goes down the crapper? What if lightning strikes and the shingles catch on fire and we no longer have a roof?

Not to mention the big question -- what exactly are "means"? And how do we best live within them?

We shopped aggressively for a house last fall because we wanted one. We even offered, counter offered, and got bummed when we "lost" the house. I am soooo glad we did. So glad. More than glad, I'm thankful. My what-if brain kept praying over and over again - Lord, close this door. Make it obvious if we shouldn't be doing this. And if you say no, make sure we both hear you. Can't say there's anything more obvious than another buyer coming and making an offer for full asking price. Let 'em have it. (Side note, those buyers are now selling the same house...)

So we rented. And we protected ourselves from our own tendencies and asked to sign a year long lease, although the landlord wasn't requiring one. We paid too much rent to really love where we lived, so that we wouldn't be tempted to jump the gun before the time was right.

And what better time than to start shopping for houses once Keith quits his job? Lord, close this door. Why not make an offer on the 7th house you actually enter? Please make it obvious. And who says you both need to be in same state while making one of the biggest decisions of your life? And if you say no, make sure we both hear you.

The purchase agreement went so smoothly, that it all sort of felt like a whirwind - I didn't have much time for my what ifs? Then we got to the financing. Oy. We agreed to a price based on a particular loan, with a particular interest rate, that would "max" us out. But we couldn't lock the interest rate yet... So we wait, and the rates climb. All the sudden, our top-end budget is out the window. Then I start to pray harder - what now? Is this a door? Make it MORE obvious. We wait - me anxiously, Keith calmly. He tells me "I feel like God's asking us to trust him." I tell him - I don't hear anything, and I think we need to start coming up with a Plan B. I probably also thought some pretty nasty things about how spontaneous and irresponsible my husband is. Now I just think he is a faithful man who I admire.

Because the end of the story is the real message here. It's the feeling I had just now driving back to work from the bank. It was peace. It was a little whisper "I told you so." - not in Keith's voice at all. It was an invisible hand on my shoulder that gave me the feeling that all the what ifs aren't for me to worry about. The cashier's check I asked the bank to provide today will cover our closing costs and leave some cash in our savings that neither of us earned. Or stole. Or borrowed from our parents. It was a severance package Keith's boss blessed us with when he quit his job - probably the biggest leap of faith we've taken in our short marriage. Who gets a severance package when they quit?! Doesn't make sense.

It also doesn't make sense that the loan that looked so awesome two months ago is no longer our best option. But we have a better one now - one that by adding on extra fees and insurance actually brings our monthly payment down to lower than we budgeted.

It also doesn't make sense that two of the most opposite people in the entire universe (me and my husband) actually have felt unified throughout the entire experience - more so than we started.

It also doesn't make sense that a worry wart like me has a stomach ache from excitement, not from anxiety, that we get the stinkin' keys to our house in 15 hours.

I think I've learned my lesson - from now on I think my prayers will be, God - make it all not make sense - and help me just be okay with that.