Detail Work

This week is a pivotal one in Shafferland. A "versary" of sorts, though I will refrain from commemorating it with chalkboards and parties. One year ago this week - Saturday if you like exact calendar dates - Ryan and I stepped foot in this home for the first time.

I was looking back at our moving scrapbook this week, because of course there is a whole scrapbook dedicated to this adventure, and the story still gives me great chills.

According to my record keeping, it was a year ago earlier this week when I had stumbled upon a house that had just come on the market and was so darling in every possible way. I called our agent immediately and scheduled a showing.

And then came January 22nd. A year ago this past Sunday. She called to say the darling-in-every-possible-way house was already off the market. Someone got there before we did and just straight up bought the thing. Per my scrapbook "I cried very bitterly for an entire day," and you know what? I remember that. I cried until I almost made myself sick. I had a raging headache for the whole next day, I could not be consoled - even with treats - and I was ready to call the whole house hunting thing off because I could not handle more disappointment like that.

Ryan and I talked about that day just this week. I told him as much as I love this house, I'm still a little mad that one was grabbed away from us before we could even look at it.

His wise response?

"Hey. It was the best thing. The details happened just as they were supposed to. God knew."

God knew indeed. God knew I needed a smart husband to keep me grounded when my creative writer brain gets away from me.

God knew I needed a day of grieving, too. I took it (clearly!!!) and the next day pulled out my laptop and started looking again. Ryan and I looked together and that's how we found this house. I was surprised he wanted to see it at all, because I thought a couple of things about it were deal-breakers for him, but he said he wanted to look, so I made the appointment and one year ago this Saturday, we pulled up in the driveway for the first time.

And as I wrote in the scrapbook, "I had looked at the interior pictures online, but I wasn't blown away by anything. But the moment I stepped on that porch, I inexplicably felt at home." (Now do you see why it's important to me that the porch is cute and cozy? It's where I first felt at home!

"We spent about a half hour walking through the house and found that it was in impeccable shape. The owners had lived there ever since it was first built. Even though it wasn't our dream floor plan, it was a darling, well-loved, well-constructed, well-maintained home. We could find no fault with it whatsoever."

We had another house lined up to see in a couple of days, but before we got there, that one sold too. Again. God knew.

This house was the only one we ever looked at. We made an offer five days after we walked through it, and we sat back to see how God would move.

The whole scrapbook is a beautifully woven testament to God's detail work. The buying of one house, the selling of another, the confirmation of prices offered and accepted...all of it was not a moment too early or late.

I know Ryan's right. As much as I would have loved to see that darling house I first fell in love with, God knew (for reasons I may never understand) that it was not our home. As bitterly disappointing as it was to never see it at all, I'm sure it was better than seeing it, loving it, and then walking away later. God was clear in the opening and closing of doors. This house? Wide open. All other houses? Firmly closed.

No questions. No room for doubt. Just a clear path up the sidewalk to our new home. (Which, by the way, I do love so so much.)

That season was a sweaty one for me. Trusting and waiting and watching nervously from the back row are not my most favorite things. But I sat and wrote down every single step in great detail as it happened. For me, that book is more than a fat scrapbook of moving fun. It's a chronicle of how God grew our faith, one detail at a time.

He's in the detail work. Even when the details seem harsh or unfair, He's in them, weaving future details we cannot even possibly fathom right now.