Our "Maybe House"

I'm sitting on my old familiar couch, in the midst of a brand new living room, a brand new neighborhood, and a brand new life.

I'm glad the couch is the same. I could use some "sameness" right about now.

But I'm also excited about all the newness.

I use the term "new" loosely when referring to this house. This living room which I am now sitting in has been around since 1890, and underneath my kitchen there are remnants of a root cellar in the basement. There's also something in the basement that resembles a medieval torture rack, so for now, Scott gets to take everything to the basement, while I stay in my comfortably modern kitchen.

We arrived late Wednesday night. On Tuesday we had received the news that the mortgage company had not yet finished processing our application. As a result, we would have to wait an additional week or two to close on the house. The sellers have been simply wonderful. We're currently renting, week-by-week, until all the paperwork gets processed. They left toilet paper, soap, and laundry detergent, with bottles of water in the fridge, and freshly scrubbed floors. Unbelievable.

Because there is a slim possibility that we won't actually be living here, nothing is coming unpacked. I'm sitting amidst piles of boxes and pretending that I'm camping. This delay with the house is such a wonderful reminder: we didn't move to Philadelphia for a house. We moved for the people. We didn't move to Philadelphia to be comfortable. We moved here because in order to reach people, you must often be very uncomfortable.

I'm actually thankful that this delay has taken place. I need constant reminders that this world is not my home. Ever since God graciously helped us find this house, I've been praying that I would be joyful, even if we never moved into this big, wonderful blessing. I desperately want a house where I can serve others, but even more than that, I want a heart that serves my Savior, and my Savior only. Sometimes big, beautiful houses get in the way of having that kind of heart...

But, while we're waiting in the midst of all this uncertainty, how about some pictures of the wonderful house which we may/may not live in? My camera is dead, so some janky cell phone pics will have to suffice. It really is a very large house, so the pictures below are only from the first (of three!) floors. Also, please keep in mind, this house photographs really well. I mean, really well. It has lots of projects scattered throughout it, and if you ever come to visit, you'll see some of the "character" up close and personal. But for now, I'll have fun showing you the house without any defects being highlighted.

This is the front entry way. It has double french doors, and the small foyer between the two doors is a pretty combination of marble and tile. This leads out to a large front porch. The sidewalk traffic here is incredible. If we just sat on our porch long enough, we'd soon know everyone in the surrounding 3 blocks! So, needless to say, fixing the porch is a number one priority. Currently, the porch looks pretty ghetto: wire railings, chipping paint, and drunken looking fixtures. Plenty of character!

Part of my lovely, dream-come-true kitchen! The counter-top are granite, and the cabinets are so large that I'm going to be at a loss with what to do with this much space! There's also a pantry... which is like heaven on earth, since I've stored my groceries in a garage cabinet for the past 2 years. Please come visit, I'll fix lots of yummies!

This is looking from the kitchen/dining room, towards the front door. I have lovely plans for a built-in bookcase and a little bench to go under these stairs. I'm afraid all my "lovely plans" are a bit overwhelming to my poor hubby. I suggested that I will have to learn carpentry on my own... this did not seem to reduce his stress level.

My "three window room." I put the piano in this room, and already have plans for some large, over-stuffed chairs--chairs that just say, "sit down, be comfy, tell me about your life." I understand that's asking a lot of these chairs, but I'm confident I'll find them somewhere.

This is the front room. I'm sitting here as I write this. These big windows are just lovely, and right now I'm people watching from them... There's a man with a very healthy-looking pony-tail chasing a Siamese cat down the sidewalk. So much amusement from people watching!

This is a view when  I stand in my kitchen and look out over into the dining room. Look at all that space! I can't wait to hunt down a ginormous table, and feed dozens of hungry people! Some people have the love language of gifts, or affirmation. Me? I'll show you my love by cooking massive amounts of food and letting your crash here whenever you want! I love a house full of people.

 So, that's our "maybe house." If we don't close, I'll be posting pics of an apartment in a week or two! I am so thankful that God holds this uncertainty in His hands. None of this is "surprising" to Him.  I'm daily reminded that this is not "my" house, nor will it ever be mine. It belongs to the King of Kings. I can't wait to see what He'll do with it!

Waiting, Nesting, and Glass Bottles

Well, dear reader, it's time for an adoption update.


Here's where we are in the adoption process... Everything we need to do is done. Everything that we can do is done. Our profile is written, our bio-clip is on the adoption website, and we are settling in for a nice, long wait for our baby.

The online bio. I did not write it, although it sounds like I did. I was surprised to hear I liked camping...

I tell myself that it's going to be a long time, but that doesn't keep me from jumping every time the phone rings, and for the life of me, I can't stop leaking tears when I walk by the baby section at Target. I don't wear water-proof mascara, so seeing baby clothes is very inconvenient.

We were told in our 8-hour "counseling" seminar, that it was probably not wise to outfit an entire nursery and start collecting massive amounts of baby clothes. Couples who have almost adopted, and the birth mom decides to keep her child, have described the emotions as "grieving a death." Having a fully equipped, yet empty nursery, could only be salt added to that wound. Plus, God may still decide that Scott and I are not supposed to be parents.

So, for now, I have only bought the bare essentials: three onesies, some receiving blankets (with elephants on them, of course!), a crib, a car seat, and some glass bottles. (I bought glass bottles because they were cheapest, and I figured all my hippie friends would be proud of my seeming attempt to protect my child from plastic-bottle-induced cancer.) I also bought a Dr. Brown's bottle. I want my baby to be reflux-free, and as a speech therapist, in an office full of speech therapists, I've heard every infant feeding horror story known to man, and I'm prepared for massive episodes of baby reflux. I also attempted gender-neutral, but you can see my natural affinity for blue (over pink) coming out... I'm afraid even a Baby Girl Allison will be dressed in decidedly unfrilly, unpinky creations, as her mother has an intense aversion to pink lace...

"Cedric the Unnecessary" waiting for Baby Allison.

The bare essentials. The onesies say "loved." How perfect is that!?!

So, the essentials being purchased and arranged, I am now in the process of looking for "safe" nesting activities. This involves starting and stopping multiple projects (for example, an oil painting that is worked on in bursts and fits, and is probably giving my husband bursts and fits, as his dining room table is frequently converted into an art studio).

I've purged all the cabinets in my kitchen. Please note this beautiful spice cabinet. My spice cabinet has never looked like this. I'm a "free spirit" everywhere (which is just another way of saying I leave things all over the place), and this is especially evident in the kitchen where chaos is king. I like to cook without recipes, and I throw spices around like I'm juggling. As a result, my cabinets usually reflect this haphazard philosophy. But I'm turning over a new leaf. I have a sneaking suspicion that I haven't gotten a baby yet because my spice cabinet wasn't clean. Moms always have clean cabinets. At least mine does...

I also color coded "my" book shelf. Scott and I have a total of four bookshelves in our house. Scott has two from his bachelor days which are filled with commentaries and dry books on eschatology and the role of _fill in the blank_ in the church. I have one that is staggered, and eclectic, and made by my dad, which I inherited when my brother left. There is also a seven foot, oak beauty is supposedly "ours," but Scott dogmatically arranges the books by author, alphabetically, and he steadfastly refuses to let me organize it as I want: by color. So, I decided that I would organize "my" book shelf in this new fashion. The results are not as striking as they would be on the big bookshelf (which I will conquer one of these days!), but I was delighted with the results of this nesting project.

So, I drift from oil painting to cleaning projects, to taking up new hobbies. I finally ordered photo prints for my picture frames, and I've decided to tackle the linen closet next.

I want to experience the anticipation, the urges to clean, the nesting, the baby showers, the excited questions from people, but I can't. This story is a little different. And I am okay with that. I can't talk about my pregnancy, and no one really wants to hear about the throes of paperwork drama I experienced. I flit between excited expectation, and a convincing certainty that we will never get a baby. I get impulses to clip coupons for formula, and then remind myself our child may already be 2 years old. The lack of certainty could be frustrating, but it serves rather as a reminder that all of life is uncertain. Even if I were carrying a baby, the uncertainty would still be there. Even if I were already parenting there would be uncertainty.

And I refuse to wallow in uncertainty. I have a God who delights in spreading His fame. I cannot but help to believe that our story is but a small, glorious snippet in the grand story He is writing across eternity. I wonder what our story will look like, while I also delight that our story is not the end.

So,  I tie my hair back, pull out my Clorox, and scrub another surface, blissfully content that God will work it all out.

If nothing else, my house will be clean.