Yesterday I faxed a signed copy of a contract on our house in Birmingham. Yes, that means we sold it. After 20 months on the market, we sold it. And funnily enough, I’m not doing cartwheels about it.
For one, our original asking price was 30k more than we sold it for. We picked that price when the market wasn’t so bad. And dropped it about ten times since then.
But mainly I’m a little sad because our house is gone. MY house is gone. That little house was our first house. Les and I have lived in government housing, trailers, apartments, people’s basements and were even homeless for awhile (in a good way, we just traveled). So our first house was really something special.
We moved to Birmingham to be Children’s Pastors of a large church there. When we got there we lived with our psuedo-parents for about five months. (Oh, how I love and miss them!) This whole time we were saving our money and looking for houses.
I remember the first time we drove into the neighborhood that would soon be ours. It was night and all the mailboxes had little lanterns on top. It was like a fairy land! I remember thinking we could NEVER afford a house in there.
We went back a few times, saw one of the smallest houses for sale and went inside. And honestly, I thought I was in a model home. I was in love! We were so excited we made our psudeo-mom come look at it that night. She loved it. It has hardwoods throughout, special touches like tall counters, arched doorways and rounded corners. I was ready to buy. That day.
Well, Les wasn’t as sold. He liked it but wanted to make sure we were getting a deal. (As usual.) A few days later we drove into the neighborhood and the For Sale sign was gone. I literally got sick to my stomach. We called the owner and she said someone else had made an offer. Well, we made a larger one right then. And we won!
(me and our lantern-topped mailbox!)
Soon we were moving in, slowly buying furniture and painting walls. We even finished the upstairs! This is the house where we found out we were pregnant. The house we cried in when they told us Lydia might be dead in my womb. The house to which we brought our miracle baby home! The house where I nursed my newborn baby. I saw so many of Lydia’s “firsts” in that house.
We thought we’d be there forever. We thought Lydia would start to walk, learn to read and welcome a new sibling at that house. It’s unbelievable how life changes. How plans are altered. How things just aren’t what you think.
So yeah, it’s bittersweet. I’m beyond happy to have that last tether to Birmingham cut, but I’m so sad to be really and truly saying good-bye to our house.