I wrote this in December 2023 before my in-law's move to CKV was made public.
As I post this now from Guatemala, they are packing their boxes and will be out of the apartment in just a few short days. I'm still disappointed, but through opening my heart to God amid the confusion and heartbreak, I have peace.
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I don't know who thought of the idea first. All I know is that when I heard it, I knew it was brilliant. "Create a habit of family devotions" has been at the top of my New Year's Resolutions every year since the year we got married. I'd just lived with my grandparents who did devotions together at the breakfast table every morning, and I was hungry for the kind of intimacy they shared with God. But 10 years in and 4 kids later and we were still struggling to make that habit a reality. In those 10 years, we'd wrestled with big questions about our faith. Although it wasn't always easy to answer (my answer was almost always, "I don't know"), our kids' questions are part of what kept me grounded. Now that I was sitting more comfortably in the not knowing, I was again regretting not having instilled a family habit of studying God's word or talking to Him more than just at mealtimes when guests come. But Doug and Barb would do it! They would do it easily and naturally. If we could just live with them, they would help us to incorporate Bible reading, prayer, and our faith in God into every day life and conversation. Brilliant! I started a search for multi-family homes for sale.
"I know, lovies. I like our own house too. But I also want to be able to invite Grammy M and Big Baba to live with us when they move back to PA next year. Our current house wouldn't work because Grammy M's wheelchair can't get up the stairs."
"Then buy a chair lift like the church did."
This was one of several similar conversations that we had while house hunting last year. None of the houses we saw were ideal, but each time we visited one, we learned something new that we needed to look out for. Each time we imagined co-living with Husband's parents, we felt equally excited at the idea and discouraged at the prospect of finding a suitable space. If it wasn't accessible, it needed to be cheap so that we could renovate. Did we want to share living space or have separate living areas? How separate? How much do we value walkability?
"How far should we widen our search? If there were an ideal house in Carlisle, would we want to move there?"
"We'd have to get a second car."
"Unless you could carpool with Seth! That would redeem the commute."
"Yes, let's look in both Carlisle and Mechanicsburg. If we have to get a second car, we have to get a second car. It would be worth it to have the opportunity to live with them and to give the kids that kind of relationship with their grandparents."
We emailed our realtors to help us look, but they never responded. Time was ticking. Plans were being considered. Words like Chambersburg and Cross Keys Village started popping up. No! "Please, God, find us a house."
And then on Christmas Eve 2022 as we were preparing the house for guests, Husband came running down the stairs like a child on Christmas morning: eyes bright, lungs pumping, lips grinning. "Check your email," he said. "Esther Spurrier said the Thuma's are selling their house in the New Year. It would be perfect for us!!! They've already started working with a Realtor but the house hasn't been officially listed yet."
I texted my friend (the Thuma's daughter-in-law) right away - no time to waste, no respect for people being busy with family on the holiday. In no time, we had set up a private showing--WITH Doug and Barb who, despite living in Malawi, happened to be in PA for another few days--for one hour later!
It was frigid outside, but warm inside on Welty Ave. The Thuma's were packing to leave the next morning for a week at the beach, but they welcomed us into their home anyways.
We got home from the walk-through with minutes to spare. As we brushed our teeth before welcoming our Christmas Eve guests, Husband whispered to me: "Even if Mom and Dad aren't interested in that apartment, I think it's the kind of house we want to own."
This was all quite a lot for someone as resistant to change as I am. But as it felt like a miraculous answer to prayer; I was comforted and excited. The house was only blocks away from our house, which meant we could still walk to all of our favorite places, and Barb could wheel around on the side walks. We wouldn't have to get a second car! Husband wouldn't increase his commute! We would be on the same property but have separate living areas that aren't even connected by a wall.
That night, after the Christmas Eve service, Husband's parents came over and we talked and laughed and dreamed until midnight. They were as taken with the property as we were. I cried thinking about my kids forming the same kind of bond I had with my Gramps, who had just died, but who had been very intentional about being involved in our daily lives from 2.8 miles down the road.
Thank you, God, for this gift.
Now, almost 1 year later, I sit confused and grieving again because this beautiful gift lasted a few short weeks before it was tainted with news that a cottage was available at Cross Keys Village and Mom and Dad Miller planned to accept.
They did not plan to accept because they were unhappy in the apartment, but because they too had prayed for a home to open up in God's timing. They thought they would need interim housing for a few years, but always planned to accept the first cottage that was offered to them. I was devastated that this cottage became available just weeks after they moved into our apartment.
Why would God give us this gift just to take it away? Did He not give it after all? What about all the oddly shaped pieces that fell so easily into place? Isn't that usually a sign of His hand?
"I feel like this is my fault," I confessed to my sister-in-law. "I wanted to rely on their Spiritual strength instead of building my own, so God took it away from me."
"I can't imagine God saying, 'No, Rachel, I don't want your kids to learn more about me from their grandparents, so I'm taking them away.'"
She's right.
But how do I make sense of this?
I've landed on the truth that I need to trust God because He sees around the corners and I can't.
I'm glad we've had this experience because it has been a reminder that God does get involved in the little details of our lives - like houses and loans.
But I'm grieving another loss. The loss of the convenience of asking our housemates to babysit, but more so the loss of these Pillars of Faith being involved in our daily lives. The loss of a special grandparent bond that I was hoping to relive through watching my children grow up with their grandparents in their backyard. Of course they'll still have a relationship, but it won't be the same. They won't get to go out and join Big Baba as he washes the car, or catch up with Grammy M as she wheels to the library. We won't have dinner together weekly or share regular family devotions together like I'd hoped.
I'm disappointed and confused. But holding on to faith that God knows best and he doesn't yank us around for the fun of it.
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