Like all good bungalows, it had never, ever been touched by a cookie cutter, and was exceptionally charming with its own unique style. The first floor offered up splendid hardwoods, bookshelves, crown molding and a room with grass cloth (which I'd always wanted to paint). Perfectly smart lighting appeared in
all the right places, and 2.5 beautiful bathrooms needed not one bit of help at all.
William and Annabelle's residential dream lay on the second floor
where two bedrooms shared a spacious subway-tiled bathroom. Plentiful windows made the house bright and cheerful, and the up-to-date kitchen was a well-appointed super bonus. But the greatest thing on earth was last—a Mr.
Ed dutch door leading to a spacious deck.
The offer couldn't be written fast enough while I pictured the glorious life that could unfold right there in that
place. The children could live it up on their own floor, and I could see myself cooking dinner while sharing a laugh with a talking Palomino horse who had dropped by and poked his head through the dutch door. It was going to be perfect.
We were early, but definitely not alone; the entire rest of the house-hunting
universe had the exact same intention. Multiple offers blanketed the sellers' table, and our answer was a laconic NO. My bungalow love affair was over as quickly as it began, and I couldn't even make conversation with a friend over dinner that evening.
While I did understand that homes are but wood and bricks, with their significance existing only with the occupants who dwell within, I wallowed in the loss of the world's shortest bungalow dream and the cruel real estate game. Owning a nice home was a standard by which I judged myself as a provider, and it felt like a tremendous opportunity had slipped away. I should have offered more.
~~~~~
However, several weeks later, out of the blue, I got a brief and vague text from our real estate agent: "Cottage on Tennessee side coming on market. We will be first to see. Are you interested?"
And, just like that, an even better home magically appeared. It was on the corner of excellent streets in the land of no state income taxes and where there lies a scarce inventory of homes for me. It came complete with lovely neighbors and all sorts of charm, and there was even old wood paneling (which I'd always wanted to paint). There were an amazing number of amenities throughout the home that were sent just for me, like scattered Valentines from above. And it all worked out fairly easily.
In the last two years I have learned two important things about the home that got away:
And, just like that, an even better home magically appeared. It was on the corner of excellent streets in the land of no state income taxes and where there lies a scarce inventory of homes for me. It came complete with lovely neighbors and all sorts of charm, and there was even old wood paneling (which I'd always wanted to paint). There were an amazing number of amenities throughout the home that were sent just for me, like scattered Valentines from above. And it all worked out fairly easily.
In the last two years I have learned two important things about the home that got away:
- Though the price I offered was sanctioned by our loan officer, the mortgage would have been a stretch, even before factoring in the state income taxes.
- The bungalow's street is an ever-busy thoroughfare for cars and commercial vehicles. We are much better off on a less traveled road.
~~~~~
The lesson here is one on which I hold with all my might when hard times of loss come around. All I could see in one lovely bungalow was the fulfillment of my hopes and dreams that were so very real in the moment. Wrapped up in my own little glowy vision, I had no engagement with the much bigger picture. And, sitting in a Mexican restaurant that July evening, I couldn't eat a chip with salsa because I had not one tiny speck of faith that there could ever be anything nearly as nice waiting around the corner.
It wasn't until much later that I embraced the big NO answer with the grace it deserved in the first place--and it was only after I had something much better in the place of my short-lived dream. While my miniature mourning period, thankfully, wasn't long, it was too much wasted time spent on a momentary dream, with not a scintilla of faith in God's wisdom in all things.
What had been my supreme disappointment turned into wonderment with the arrival of an even finer gift in an impossible place. When discouragement and adversity come around, I shall take a little detour on my way home, so I can drive by a still-lovely house on a busy street, always remembering the Parable of the Bungalow.
It wasn't until much later that I embraced the big NO answer with the grace it deserved in the first place--and it was only after I had something much better in the place of my short-lived dream. While my miniature mourning period, thankfully, wasn't long, it was too much wasted time spent on a momentary dream, with not a scintilla of faith in God's wisdom in all things.
What had been my supreme disappointment turned into wonderment with the arrival of an even finer gift in an impossible place. When discouragement and adversity come around, I shall take a little detour on my way home, so I can drive by a still-lovely house on a busy street, always remembering the Parable of the Bungalow.
