When God Opens a Door

sometimes He kicks your butt right through it.

The owners received our offer and said they want to accept it, but their builder for their new house has offered to buy their current house by October 5th if it hasn't sold. If they accept a contingent offer (like ours) their builder is off the hook. Then if our house doesn't sell and the contract becomes null and void, they are in a pickle. Sooooo....they said if we make it a hard offer and take out a bridge loan, they'll drop the price a further $5,000. That makes the selling price of the house ridiculous.

All this hit the fan last night and I went to bed telling Tim that NO WAY was I doing a bridge loan. Too risky, too risky, too risky. You have to make 2 mortgage payments until your first house sells and if it doesn't, you still have the balloon payment at the end of 6 months. Not a chance am I agreeing to that.

Fast forward to this morning. Just got off the phone with my dad, who said the bridge loan thing wasn't a bad idea. It certainly wouldn't cost us five grand in interest and it would take all the pressure off trying to keep this place in sellable condition with three little mess-makers running around. We'd have time to do a little painting in the new house and make the necessary repairs to this one. When I expressed my vast distaste for the bridge loan, my dad said "We'll just buy your house and then list it ourselves. That will probably be best anyway." My mom said, "I think this is a God thing, dear," to which I replied, "I'm not sure I like the God thing..."

This sounds sacreligious, but what I really mean is that we always say we want the neon sign, the handwriting on the wall, the obvious path pointed out to us. But sometimes, if your heart is a little rebellious, if the path isn't quite the one you might have chosen, the neon sign isn't exactly a welcome event.

This is where trust comes in. I am not very good at trust. I am much better at control. Well, that's really to say I am much more comfortable with control, because Trust is really the opposite of control. It's more or less saying that I relinquish control. And that is scary stuff. I am trying to let go of the control here, but it's hard to pry my fingers off the handlebars, even when the bike is going in circles.

I like circles; they're round and comfortable and don't take you anywhere you haven't been before.