October 12, 2009

I knew our lives were about to radically change. Glenn had been talking about this moment for months. And despite his excitement, I felt the full weight of our decision deep in the pit of my stomach.
"Well, Christine. Are you ready for this?"
"Not really," I replied. I hadn't been ready for this moment, even though I knew it had been coming for months. We loaded the baby into the car, and I checked the directions one more time. Dude had sounded nice enough on the phone, but the thought of living out in the country left me wondering.

We drove out past the cow fields, past the million dollar homes, and turned left onto a dirt road. Every jostle of the tires reminded me of losing our home, moving into a smaller place. Would this be it? A place where we could pinch pennies to pay off our debt? We turned right onto another dirt road, careful to avoid the tire hungry potholes.
"Where is this place?" I asked. After another few minutes, we came around a sharp curve, and there it was. I felt a smile stretch on my face for the first time all day. The home reminded me of a log cabin, rustic and quaint all at the same time. We pulled into the driveway, and climbed out, admiring the scenery. The horse farm next door, the trees, acres for Mose to run on...
"You must be Christine," I heard someone interrupt my thoughts. I could only guess it was Dude. I turned to see a middle aged, somewhat balding man, with a friendly smile.
He stuck out his hand, "I'm Dude. Let me show you the carriage house."
I expected to head toward the beautiful home on my right, but instead he pointed toward a large blue shed about 25 feet from the house. I looked at Glenn....THIS? You've got to be kidding me...this shed? This shack?

My husband's eyes lit up as we walked in. Despite the pile of skis, lamps, books upon, books, upon books, deer skins, dishes, and tarps, Glenn said it "had character." I on the other hand decided from the moment that we walked in that God would never want me to live in a place like this. The kitchen was the size of what you might find in an RV trailer, the washer and dryer were mini-compact and could only hold maybe a towel or two at a time, and the A frame ceiling upstairs forced us to walk with our heads to the side every time we wanted to get from one side of the room to the other.

"One. I counted one stinkin' drawer in that kitchen, Glenn. And three cabinets. There is NO WAY I'm living there. I can't possibly cook in that kitchen..." I ranted and raved until we got to the next rental that we were looking into. It was a beautiful 3 bedroom colonial, and it was also $400 above our budget for rent.
"Well, God. This is it. I have to live in this 3 bedroom home. I cannot live in that shack. I've made up my mind."

On our way to the restaurant for dinner, I heard the Lord speak to me. "Why are you attached to your stuff? Are you willing to pass up an opportunity to become debt free because you have to have your stuff? Isn't that what got you into this position in the first place? The need to have a place big enough for your stuff?"

We made a phone call that night to Dude...well, when I say we, I mean I made the call. "Dude, we want to rent your carriage house," the shack, I thought to myself. Let the journey begin.