Home Sweet Home

Note: I am aware that today is Wednesday. Don't worry, I'll probably post tomorrow too. I just had to get some of what is on my mind off of it. Savanah, this post is for you. I know how you feel. Thanks for sharing.

Yesterday I happened across a news report on PBS. We don't have television in our home, so it was rather extraordinary that the planets aligned and I happened to be sitting in this particular living room, waiting, with only the tv haphazardly left on, showing a channel that most people don't bother to pay attention to. I half-listened as the news anchor, whose wrinkles still showed despite too much make-up, informed me that "the American dream is changing, and many Americans will never own homes. Renting is easier."

My heart cried out in protest. But that is our dream. We DO want to own our own home. We want a yard to mow, a flower garden to plant, and a garage to clutter. We want a place that we can mark our children's heights on the wall and paint any color we want.

Scott and I started our initial home-buying process two years ago. We figured we were paying just as much in rent as we would spend on a monthly mortgage payment, and we should start building equity if we couldn't start building anything else. So Scott started searching online and found several homes in our price range. He was excited. I was nervous. I had a different dream on my mind, and I knew that we could not possibly afford both. After a few weeks of looking, we sat down and had a good chat. I expressed my fears about buying a home and then not being able to sell it when the time came to leave Cache Valley. We both knew that time was coming, we just weren't sure when. And though Scott had a steady job, it was one where if anything else came along, we were going to take it. And then we decided that if we were going to pursue our dream of starting a family, we would have to count buying a house as "a dream deferred" as Langston Hughes would say.

So instead we found a bigger apartment with better amenities, settled in, and discovered Kevin was on her way only a few weeks later. We had no regrets.

But that didn't stop us from watching every "House Hunters" and "Sweat Equity" and "Property Brothers" episode we could find on hulu.

About two months ago, we resumed our home search. When looking for apartments here in the Salt Lake Valley, we tried to find ones with short leases. We were just sure we would be getting into a house by this summer. As luck would have it, the only apartment we felt good about required a one-year lease. That's okay, we told ourselves. We can get out of it early, if we need to. We'll just pay the fine. Things will work out.

So, about six weeks after moving here, we started looking. Once again, Scott found several good "options" for us--or so we thought, until we went to see them. We realized that something can sound good on paper, and look good on the internet, and be absolutely horrendous in person. We only toured three houses before I got that sinking, I-want-to-barf feeling. Something wasn't right. And as we came home, to our cute and nearly-new, only-three-years-old apartment, I realized I liked where we were.  I didn't mind that we were surrounded by neighbors above us, below us, and on two sides. I loved the finishings, I loved the floorplan, I loved the location. And in comparison to those houses we saw, I wanted to stay here.

But I still wanted my own home.

Surely I couldn't have both.

We started praying harder. While together we were asking God to help us find the right place, individually we were both asking, is this the right place? Together, we were figuring out how to add saving for a home into our tiny budget. Individually, we were wondering if we could possibly afford it at this point in time. Together, we were looking at home ads on the internet. Individually, we were getting more and more discouraged.

And then one day Scott turned to me and said, "I feel like we need to stay here for a while."

And I said, "Me too."

And our home search, once again, went on the back burner.

The desire for our own home hasn't gone away. If anything, for me, it has intensified. It feels like every day I read on facebook about one of my friends closing on a home. I see their "home improvement" pinterest boards. I see their "new home tours" on their blogs.

And that little green monster in me starts to whisper in my ear: why can't that be us? Why can't we be picking out wall colors and door handles and claiming our things from our parents basements?

And I have to tell that green guy to shut up before he gets going very far, into all the hopes and dreams that we have for our future home. I know this is where we are supposed to be. Renting. In a two bedroom apartment. Storing 75% of my book collection in my brother-in-law's basement. Throwing money down the drain for another couple of years.

But is it throwing money down the drain? We have a roof over our heads. We have two bathrooms and two bedrooms and a place to park our cars. We have food in the cupboards and our pictures on the walls. We have wrestling matches on the carpet with our daughter and spots on the walls from accidentally-flung-and-forgotten-about spaghetti sauce. We are happy! We have a place to be together.

Isn't that what a home is, anyway? A place to come back to? A place that holds people you love? A place that you can call yours, even for a short period of time?

So while we have no house deed to our name, and probably won't for a few more years, I am learning to be content with where we are. This is the place for us. This is where our dreams are coming true, little by little: a father providing for his family while earning his college degree, a baby learning to walk, a mom feeling like she is exactly where she needs to be.

This is our home.