WILL WE EVER BREAK GROUND ON OUR FINALLY FARMHOUSE? Switching gears {yet again} . . . but still moving forward

Walking out of the South Carolina hotel room, we dodged mid-morning cleaning carts lining the hallway as we made our way to the elevator.

And then I heard her. With voice strong and clear, full of confidence, the housekeeper spoke of an eternal God—her God—who would call her home someday whenever he was good and ready. She said His are the commandments that matter most. It seems she was tired of all of the “can’t do” rules at the place where she lives. She wanted more freedom for herself and her family.

Someday I’m gonna have me a house where I can plant my flowers and take care of my yard. With a front porch I can sweep—and a back porch where I can put out some little chairs and sit outside and drink my coffee and listen to the birds sing…

As the elevator door opened, I looked at my Renaissance Man, my eyes brimming with tears.

Me, too, Sister.

Some days this adventure of living in a trailer without my “pretties” around me is beginning to take its toll. Eighteen months and counting… We were in South Carolina meeting with architects, making modifications to one of their Southern Living house plans.

We’ve scrapped the custom plan I designed.

Surprised? Disappointed? Yeah, me, too.

But here’s the deal . . .  When Builder #7 (don’t ask) came back with good, well-documented numbers, we were okay with the per-square-foot price. But in the final calculation, the square footage of my dream house was about 300 square feet more than we thought. Oops. Getting larger than we “need”. More cha-ching, but still fine.

Then, in order to assess what would be our final “product”, we added in the value of our land and improvements we’ve already made to it. We looked at the number. We looked at each other. We read each other’s minds: We can afford this.

And then the words—simultaneous…

This isn’t who we are.

We don’t want to spend that much on a house. We want more financial flexibility. We want a date night in the middle of the week “just because”. We want to build generosity into our budget.

We’re so much more than a house.

So—after taking several years to sell the big, beautiful old house we renovated in a small town then over a year designing our dream house and (finally!) lining up a builder—what does it feel like FOUR YEARS IN when “who you are” and “what you want” don’t align?

Numb. Disappointed. Grieved. Confused.

RESOLUTE. This is the right answer.

But honestly? I just don’t get it. While my theologically-trained Renaissance Man asks, “what is there to ‘get’?”, I suspect you know what I mean. All of those crazy questions that bubble to the surface…

WHY did it take so long to come to this conclusion? IF ONLY things had been different, we wouldn’t have spent so much time and money on a house plan we’re not even going to use.

I wouldn’t have poured my heart into something—yet again—only to be heartbroken.

All along we prayed for God to stop us if we weren’t pursuing His best, and, while there were certainly a lot of slow-downs, at no point did we feel we should stop. Rather, we felt compelled to work through the challenges, practicing trust and patience rather than giving in to anxious spirits. If it was a test, I believe we passed it.

I also believe we’ve now come to exactly the right conclusion; the conclusion that makes our heavenly Father proud.

We know who we are—and who we aren’t.

Even as our human hearts experience occasional moments of disappointment, even grief, at the setting aside of a dream, we’re still trusting that our choice to go even smaller is the right one. We know it is; we’re just really weary, and we want to see things play out sooner rather than later.

So what now?

It’s been almost eight weeks since we sat with architects in their South Carolina office and requested customizations. We’ve been waiting for the final drawings, hoping our low, locked-in interest rate doesn’t expire—and go up. We’ll need a new appraisal. Thankfully, the builder is patiently waiting with us!

Why? If only . . .

We’re choosing to trust. It may not be the house we thought we’d build, but it’s going to be beautiful and still sited to the gorgeous East Tennessee valley view we’ve grown to love. We’ll still use many of the salvaged treasures we’ve acquired. Not every room will be located “first preference position” in the house, but when I return to the list we wrote at the very beginning—back when we decided to sell our old house—I have no choice but to be grateful. Almost every criteria has a √ next to it!

MUST HAVE

• First floor master suite √
• First floor laundry √
• 9+ foot ceilings at least in living area and master suite √
• Minimum 2 acres √
• Nice view; not fronting a high-traffic road; no junky yards nearby √
• No vinyl siding √
• At least 2 bedrooms/2 baths √
• His/her master closets √
• Front porch √
• No street-facing garage (unless detached and set back from house) √

DESIRE

• Older home (75+ years) or newer “farmhouse” built to look old √
• 3 bedrooms
• Large front (or wrap-around) porch √
• Wood floors in primary rooms √
• Interior plank walls √
• Walk-in pantry √
• 5+ acres √
• Vaulted ceiling(s)
• Plenty of light √
• Back patio (prefer off of and same level as kitchen) √

I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t put any more details here just yet — like the new floor plan. When everything falls into place, I’ll be excited to share. Until then, I’m going to keep trying to set aside one dream and embrace another. It’s just a house, but it’s our house . . .

Someday it will be a home.

Dear South Carolina hotel housekeeper,

I pray you get your house one day, too! I hope you have a yard big enough for your kids and grands to run and play—but small enough for mowing to not be a chore. I hope you have the prettiest blooms on your flowers—and make bouquets to share with your neighbors. I hope your porches have arms open to friends, family, and stranger alike, and that joys and burdens are shared there as easily as coffee and sweet tea. May the birds—and the angels—sing melodies of praise to the Father who created you, and may your porch light’s glow pale in comparison to the Light you shed on those around you.

I wish the same for each of you. Thanks so much for stopping by—and for sticking with us through this tumultuous adventure!

P.S. As I put the finishing touches on this post, the long-awaited email containing house plans for our final review hit my inbox. Pinch me! Perhaps this is really—finally—going to happen. I’m off to do a thorough review and send approval. Still moving forward . . .

Related posts:

Is there a farmhouse in my future—finally? Our Finally Farmhouse — FINALLY! Finally Farmhouse update – and a 24-hour question SALVAGED TREASURES: New old finds for our Finally Farmhouse