The funny thing about our Virginia Beach house hunt is that it actually began a year and a half ago. When Daniel was offered the first position he had with this company, the one that would eventually move us to Tennessee, we had the option of choosing to relocate from Baltimore to Southeastern Virginia or Nashville.
We wanted Virginia to work for a plethora of reasons, not the least of which that it was closer to almost all of our family. So for several weekends we drove aimlessly around coastal Virginia cities trying to envision our life there. And it didn’t work. Our low point came in a deserted factory parking lot in Newport News, then in a perfectly fine Chick-fil-A in Suffolk where I broke into spontaneous sobs. Even though I didn’t know what I was looking for, I knew I hadn’t found it and that we would be choosing Nashville, sight unseen, 12 hours southwest of our closest family member.
Of course these are the kinds of questions that don’t have answers, though I have my hunches.
Both of us flabbergasted by our choice, we signed the offer on the plane.
A few days later the owners countered, but it didn't make sense for us, so we walked away. We spent the next few months looking at a barrage of other homes and even making offers on a couple, but never feeling the way we had about that first one.
At the beginning of November, when I was well along in my seventh month of pregnancy and after a disappointing inspection led us to back out of a contract, we began discussing that first house again. “What if we just see if they’d be willing to reconsider?” I said.
Our long-suffering Realtor reached out to the listing agent and, to our surprise, this time the sellers ended up accepting our offer (which was almost identical to the first one) without condition. I tried hard not to get excited, as we’d had so many false starts already. But this time, we sailed through underwriting, the house had an amazing inspection, and we ended up closing a week before we had planned.
It’s not the house I always dreamed of, and even a year ago the prospect of settling in this city made me cry in public. But somehow now the idea of raising my children here and setting down roots is thrilling. I didn’t want a fixer upper, and this house presents us with projects to keep us busy for years to come. It doesn’t look like the house I always pictured, and yet I’m feeling like it may still be our dream home.
We are ever thankful for God’s vision that is so much more than what we are able to dream for ourselves, even though it’s often worlds away from what we thought we wanted.