house hunting emotions (as told by troy barnes)

My husband and I have entered into our first house-buying experience, and I'm suddenly realizing I'm not the greatest at handling this kind of exciting, stressful and emotional journey. I've always been a homebody, and the two of us are probably the most sentimental humans in Arizona. We walk into a house that's for sale and we're like, oh well hello there, destiny, thanks for bringing us to our new place of solace and happiness. The problem is, when it's listed way out of our budget or sells before we can make an offer, we might take it a little too hard. It feels personal. Like we've just been betrayed by the very destiny that promised us so much.

I figured Troy Barnes, a character on the TV show Community, was the best man for the job of illustrating our complex emotions of the past few weeks.

We hadn't actually planned on buying a house this early. But we came across a few local properties, and our interest was piqued. The wheels started turning. What if we bought a fixer upper, lived in it for a few years while we fixed it up, then resold it to provide us with enough money to build our own house (which is our ultimate dream)?

We saw the house for the first time a week and a half ago. We knew right away it was the perfect type of dingy, in need of our tender love and care but not too far gone. It was priced low; most of the houses around our city at the same price are half the size. It had only been listed for one day, so we were confident with our offer and waited the necessary 10 days before the bank would tell us we were officially home owners.

But then, over the weekend, our realtor told us that the bank was rejecting all of the offers. There are a total of 3, we found out, so our initial feelings of being the special chosen ones quickly vanished. The bank wanted our highest and our best. We could raise the offer, raise the earnest money, waive the inspection period (or shorten it)...

Our confidence was shaken and we had no idea what to do. The market began rising as we twiddled our thumbs and lost sleep. Even if we raise the offer, will the other offers raise theirs as well? How can we be sure we beat them to the highest bid? Why couldn't this be a personal interview, where we charm The Bank and make them love us? Is there any way I could send The Bank a basket of mini muffins to endear them to us? Is this a sign? And if so, what's it pointing at? Are signs even a thing? 

So many questions! So much doubt! In the back of our minds we kept telling ourselves that everything will work out either way - if this isn't the house, then we'll move on with our lives and continue saving our money. If it is, then we'll get it...right? 

The Bank is impossible to mind read, unfortunately, but we decided to just do everything available to us. Raise the offer, raise the earnest money, shorten the inspection time. I tried to also send the mini muffins, but they don't like baked goods; they only eat pure gold and our hopes and dreams.

We submitted the new offer this morning. So now we're left to wait again. We'll hopefully know by tomorrow, but while I sit here typing at work it's all just like

and

It's stressful not knowing the future. I know we're not the only human beings with this problem, but it would be so much easier knowing whether or not this is the house. I'm not even sure if there's such a thing as the anything. While I believe God cares about the smallest desires of our hearts, I am not positive that he always tells us direct answers to the decisions we make. Things like where we go to school, or what we have for lunch, or what job we take. Sometimes there are clear answers, but sometimes there aren't. In this time of uncertainty and stress, I have to remember that the future is taken care of whether we're directly lead to purchasing this house or passing it by. We've done everything we can to make it happen, because in our minds it's the house - but dealing with the loss of it will not break us. It will simply be another story to tell.

the last crystal

Destiny seems like a strong word when you're talking about a small token of desire. A token like a necklace.

But I don't really know how else to describe a series of events like this one....

In November we went to the mountains with another couple. It was such a beautiful fall, and we couldn't wait to spend a little time away!

Her family owns a beautiful house in Blowing Rock, NC -- there's really not much to say about the weekend except that it was absolute perfection. 

Board games by the fire, leaves turning, stunning vistas, ice cream, coffee, shopping.

In town there's a great strip of outlet stores, and we decided to go there on our last day. 

This may be a huge shocker, but us girls wanted to shop a lot longer than the boys wanted to...their patience was growing a little thin. Right around the time they started dozing off on the couches in LOFT. 

I was, of course, the last one to be rushing to finish up -- I ended up getting only one pair of pants because I was in panic-mode and didn't want to buy stuff I wasn't even sure I wanted. I'm guilty of that way too often!

With Dusty following close behind, shielding my eyes from any further distractions, he cowed me into the checkout line and I hastily flung the pants onto the counter.

Once the cashier rang me up, I went to pay and suddenly noticed her ensemble. So cute! A LOFT sweater, of course. It was nearing the official time to be sparkly and festive, and she was wearing a maroon sweater with the most amazing necklace ever. It was so sparkly on her, I just had to comment : I love your necklace!

She smiled, I think it's actually right behind you!

Oh yes. There it was. Hanging in the jewelry section that I hadn't had time to browse.

It's such a horrible feeling, regret.

I saw it hanging there, the little tag sticking up. $8.00. 

I think Dusty saw the look in my eye because he seemed to raise in stature and his eyes said, don't you dare. Our friends were waiting by the door and I started to sweat.

We got in the car and I seriously considered yelling apologies as I ran back into the store before anyone could stop me. But, alas, it was too late. I had surrendered.
We went back to the cabin to enjoy our last few hours, then drove back to Virginia and bid farewell to an amazing mountain weekend.

Non-buyer's guilt is real, though. It's real. 

Obviously the story doesn't really end there.
The first weekend in January we went back with our friends to the mountains, (and almost died in a crazy snowstorm, but that's a different story), went back to the outlet mall, and I walked back into LOFT and that feeling of sadness still lingered.
Of course, it's an outlet store. Things come and go and change and filter out like crazy. There was a cute new striped sweater in the window that said Bonjour, so I decided it would be my fun purchase for the day if I could find it. The necklace was something from my past that I wasn't going to let ruin my day.
I kept it simple, tried some things on, and was the first at the cash register. My friend was still shopping so I felt at ease browsing the jewelry section.
I saw a few cute necklaces, but was suddenly blinded by something shocking and beautiful.
There. Behind a stack of other unremarkable necklaces. Was the necklace. 
It was there! After all this time, one little straggler was left behind, perused but never bought, considered but never taken home. It was there waiting for me.
The last necklace.

See?

It was destiny.