Rambles
The house is painted. The windows are fixed. The "coming soon" sign is out front. I sat in Grady's nursery today and cried.
I love this house. Everything about it. I've never been unhappy here. Or if I have it's never been the houses fault. Well, except the dryer. But that was the stupid birds building a pent house in the vent's fault. But we fixed that. And the fence that kept falling down and leaned really bad in the tornado force winds we have every spring.
The paint covers the hand prints that G left behind. Peanut butter stained fingers leaving greasy trails that I would scrub at but reside still remained. It covers were 5 years worth of wear chipped paint off of edges. It's all good.
I mean the garage is a little tight. And Lord help me there isn't a big enough linen closet. The one in the spare bath is okay, but who wants to keep their bed linens for the master in the spare bath? And I'd like a place for a train table for G, who really likes his trains.
But seriously set back of staying home is I'm always home. So I'm always here. Looking at what to fix. Looking at what to take down. What to stage. Dwelling on little things and wondering if people will notice and will it be a deal breaker? If it were acceptable, I'd start a vino IV drip at about 10AM to keep the stress at bay.
But then I read the stories coming from my friends who's daughter had open heart surgery at 4 months, and how good she's doing, and yet how scary it all still is, and how they have lived like hermits for 4 months to keep her away from cold and flu season. And she is such a miracle. Do you know they were told at 11 weeks to abort her? That she wouldn't make it to term anyway? But they couldn't do that, so they prayed and prayed, and waited and waited, and from that moment on miracle after miracle happened, and that little girl just looks like the sweetest little baby. And some doctor somewhere didn't think she would or should be.
And I think that if that little baby's mama (whom I have never met, never talked to and do not know - though she signed my sister's sophomore yearbook) can handle all of that, and survive and smile and hold her baby and show such grace ... than I can sell a stupid house.
Because even if it doesn't sell ... like I said ... I've never been unhappy here. And I've been nothing but blessed. Please keep praying for that sweet little baby. She keeps facing obstacles and fighting ... but every prayer helps.
I love this house. Everything about it. I've never been unhappy here. Or if I have it's never been the houses fault. Well, except the dryer. But that was the stupid birds building a pent house in the vent's fault. But we fixed that. And the fence that kept falling down and leaned really bad in the tornado force winds we have every spring.
The paint covers the hand prints that G left behind. Peanut butter stained fingers leaving greasy trails that I would scrub at but reside still remained. It covers were 5 years worth of wear chipped paint off of edges. It's all good.
I mean the garage is a little tight. And Lord help me there isn't a big enough linen closet. The one in the spare bath is okay, but who wants to keep their bed linens for the master in the spare bath? And I'd like a place for a train table for G, who really likes his trains.
But seriously set back of staying home is I'm always home. So I'm always here. Looking at what to fix. Looking at what to take down. What to stage. Dwelling on little things and wondering if people will notice and will it be a deal breaker? If it were acceptable, I'd start a vino IV drip at about 10AM to keep the stress at bay.
But then I read the stories coming from my friends who's daughter had open heart surgery at 4 months, and how good she's doing, and yet how scary it all still is, and how they have lived like hermits for 4 months to keep her away from cold and flu season. And she is such a miracle. Do you know they were told at 11 weeks to abort her? That she wouldn't make it to term anyway? But they couldn't do that, so they prayed and prayed, and waited and waited, and from that moment on miracle after miracle happened, and that little girl just looks like the sweetest little baby. And some doctor somewhere didn't think she would or should be.
And I think that if that little baby's mama (whom I have never met, never talked to and do not know - though she signed my sister's sophomore yearbook) can handle all of that, and survive and smile and hold her baby and show such grace ... than I can sell a stupid house.
Because even if it doesn't sell ... like I said ... I've never been unhappy here. And I've been nothing but blessed. Please keep praying for that sweet little baby. She keeps facing obstacles and fighting ... but every prayer helps.
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