My wife and I have been casually looking for a new home. We do as most, I assume, and download Zillow and the like, set your search criteria, and wait for notifications. It feels similar to fishing: pick the location, sort out the fish you’re angling for, wait for a bite.
Our search is a bit more complicated because we want to find five acres to accommodate two houses. One for my family and one for my wife’s parents as we walk through their health issues as they age.
A property bit, and we’re in the process of reeling it in. Five acres, wooded area, big manicured yard, a 2000 square foot home for my in-laws, and a 5000 square foot church. It was nearly a pass, but when you squint and look sideways at it, that church would make a heck of a home that would enable us to have people over, host events, and serve our community using the large meeting room.
We’ve almost landed the property. Pre-approval paperwork is in hand, an offer has been made, and now we wait.
Liminal space is challenging to navigate. That’s the place between what was and what will be. I’ve found that these spaces shine a light on my weaknesses and insecurities. We made the offer nearly 24 hours ago, and in the meantime, I’ve prayed, I’ve let the property go mentally, assuming the delay means another offer came in. I’ve imagined my family living and playing on the land that will likely be where I call home until retirement. I’ve also stress-eaten and gone in and out of checking out by jumping online to waste time and hope it makes it pass quicker.
I want to do well in the liminal space. I want to say that I was bold in facing our future, be it good news or bad. I’m fighting to be present with my family, and I’m trying not to go to food for comfort.
I’d rather be fighting and doing something to get to a closing date. But, all I have is the time between what was and will be, and I’m trying my best to step into it with faith and a peaceful presence that my wife, daughter, and in-laws can feel and be encouraged by.
By the end of the day, I may have reeled in what I think could be our dream home. However, the line could snap, and the big one could get away. If that happens, we’ll mourn the loss, but we won’t stop fishing.