God Works

Not that this is news, of course. But He has been doing a work in this family for months years now. You may recall the dramatic events of our move from New Orleans to Lafayette. Well, as I'm never one to have an ordinary life, let me summarize the months since our move.

We moved. We rented a cute little house right down the street from the kids school. Little did we know that the homeowner had not been paying her taxes nor her mortgage for something like eight months. We were greeted by a sheriff's deputy one fine August morning with papers declaring the property seized and orders to move ASAP. Thankyouverymuch.

So we look and we look and just when nothing seems to be turning up, we go drive by a house that I'd seen online. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon and we were on a post-church, post-lunch, let's-get-the-kids-sleepy sort of drive. There, caddy-corner from the house I had seen online was a cute white house with blue shutters, a for sale sign firmly planted in the yard (complete with waving red balloon), and a big old "OPEN HOUSE" sign.

"You wanna stop?"

"Why not? Nothin' better to do."

We really do speak in complete sentences. Occasionally.

So in we go, complete with 3 carb-loaded, tired, heathen children who acted as if they'd never been in public before. I mean, Griffin immediately used the bathroom and didn't even bother to flush. How's that for open house manners? The realtor, Pat, was (and is) a doll. Very down to earth, very likable, and very funny. We adored her instantly.

We didn't just like the house, we loved it.

But....

Knowing there was NO way we could purchase it (with our post-seminary-crap-for-credit), we lamented with Miss Pat, who urged us to "just check it out" and gave us the names of a few lendors she knew, always saying, "don't worry guys, you'll get this house...." (to which we only could say "Poor delusional Miss Pat. She really is a sweetie, but she's pretty darn clueless." Did I mention we had ca-ca for credit?)

Now I'm not really sure how it all happened, but the next thing I knew, a friend offered to help with our down payment. And one of those lendors that Pat knows? Well, she said it looked like we could work a deal. So the next thing I knew, I was furiously copying tax returns and paycheck stubs and bank statements like a woman gone mad.


And so the days of wondering why on earth we moved to house A, only to be kicked out via sheriff, came to an end when we moved into this absolutely precious little house B, which had been on the market only one month, and which we never would have found had we not moved into house A first. The timing was not mine by any stretch of the imagination. This was down to the wire timing, moment by moment and day by day. In other words, it was God's impeccable timing.

We are now sitting in the house that we have all proclaimed our favorite of allllllllll the houses we've had. It has character. It is unique. It is warm and cozy. It has family written all over it.

And it is ours.