It struck me tonight while I outside washing the one window my husband forgot to do that selling a house stinks. I was still wearing work clothes crouched down trying to get the window track clean. What is that nasty stuff that collects in the track? I heard that newspaper is great to keep streaks away. No one mentioned that the newspaper also gets very soggy and dyes your hands black.
We’ve had our house on the market for a week. One person looked at it. I can tell this is going to be a test in patience and endurance. I love our house. This sale is about the kind of life we want to live. I want to be close to work, church, family and friends. I don’t want to spend two hours a day in the car.
Having a house on the market is deeply personal. We’re hoping that random strangers will walk through our house. I’m hoping that someone will feel comfortable here and want to stay. I’m afraid they won’t.
It feels remarkably familiar.
Remember what it felt like when Prom was coming and you didn’t have a date? I remember trying on dresses on the off chance that I had a date when the big night came. I remember sitting in classes and wondering if anyone thought I was worth a dinner and a ticket. I remember the sinking feeling when everyone else had plans and I did not. A friend and I had a complicated and unrealistic plan to convince two boys who rode our bus that they really did want to go to a dance. It didn’t work. I remember my wise parents planning a trip for that same weekend so I’d be out of town. My mother told me not to worry, that I’m just a late bloomer. Who wants to be late at anything? Late is not good….right?
I heard about someone yesterday who sold their house in five days. Part of me strongly dislikes these people. Part of me wants to be them. Today my mother today told me not to worry. Anything worthwhile takes time. God knows the plans He has for us. I’m grateful for my mother.
I’m also grateful that I’m no longer an insecure teenager. I have a cousin who decided she didn’t want a date to Prom. She and a whole pile of her girlfriends went shopping, found the perfect dresses and went to Prom in a big limo. Just the girls. They had a ball. No worries. I wish I could go back to that teenager I was. I wish I could tell her that Prom is not a big deal. I wish I could tell her to relax and just enjoy her friends. I plan on telling my daughter this. I hope she listens. In the mean time I am going to keep washing my windows and calling my realtor. I am going to plan for a move and trust that it will happen. If it doesn’t, I’m going to trust the One who knew me in high school and knows me now. I am going to try and model for my daughter what trust looks like. Thanks Mom.