Well, we did it. We bought a house
in 'Merica. It's a trilevel in a quiet, multi-ethnic subdivision
full of retired military couples, widows, widowers, and a few
families with school-aged children. Buying a house turns out to be
complicated. Mandatory flood insurance, offers and counter-offers,
and meetings with lawyers are big, adult things that we were not
always prepared for. In fact, we actually showed up to our closing
without the down payment....but that's another story. In the end, we
closed on the house at the end of March, and family has helped us
make it pretty and fill it with furniture. The kids love all the
different rooms to play in, and even found a “slide” in one of
the closets (the floor is sloped).
When we first moved in, a lot of
people asked me, “Are you SO happy to finally have your own place?”
I said yes, because I am
happy and feel blessed beyond measure. But I don't think I was quite
as exuberant as everyone hoped. For one thing, digging down
30-year-mortgage-roots is a scary prospect for an adventure-loving
missionary-at-heart girl like me. I know this is where God wants my
family currently, so I'm choosing to be thankful and rest in it. The
other thing that kept me from being SO happy was a friend of mine in
Haiti, who happened to lose his residence about the time we found
ours. He had been sleeping on a porch outside a friend's home, and
was asking me (via the internet) to help him find a dry place to
sleep. Being so many miles away, and enjoying my nice new bed in my
nice new house while he slept outside, made me feel horrible.
Thankfully, friends and family came to the rescue and found a way for
my Haitian friend to find employment and a room to rent. My sister
says that God's grace is miraculously never-ending. That is to say,
when we are blessed beyond measure, it doesn't mean that blessings
are being withheld from someone else. There are always enough
blessings to go around. But sometimes it feels as though we have too
much. And lately, looking at our home, I feel that way. I pray that
God never lets me become complacent here, but always reminds me of
those in the family of Christ who need our help.
The kids seem to be having a great
time adjusting to this new American life. They like 'Old McDonald's
play land', and trips to the park, and playdates, and children's
church programming. They like all the time they get with their
extended family here. The one thing they don't like, however, is the
lack of 'neighbors'. After we moved in to our new neighborhood, we
went walking down our street every afternoon, trying to meet our
neighbors. Rarely did we see anyone outside. I decided to bake some
cookies and bread and pies and take them to our neighbors. This only
partially worked. We met a few wonderful widows on our block, one of
whom invited us in. We met the couple next door, who are very
pleasant. But some people met our knocks on their door with
uncertainty, eyeing us like we were surely trying to sell them
something, and scurrying back inside after we exchanged a few words.
Several people just flat out refused to open the door to us. Now,
this was something incredible to me and the kids. Someone who
doesn't want free pie?? Our Haitian neighbors (who would have been
outside anyway), would have come knocking on our door for pie. In
fact, I'm pretty sure that happened to me once or twice (or a
hundred times) in Haiti. We have persisted in our afternoon walks,
however, and have begun to meet more people on the block. No hoards
of orphans in the garden to play with the kids, but we did find a few
younger children that hopefully, in time, can be playmates.
