Driftwood

Choosing shingles is not as easy as I thought. Nor are shingle colors as homogenous as I imagined. On my way to the wholesale supplier, I decided to look at the shingles other people have on their roofs. You can get red, green or blue shingles. They can be smooth or rough. They can be rectangles or squares or circles.

By the time I got to the store and was standing in front of the display panel looking at about 40 different options of 25-year shingles, I was overwhelmed. I was thinking grey, but that just narrowed it down to about 15 to choose from. So I called my dad, and he was thinking brown. "Red-brown or orange-brown?" I asked him. "Grey will be fine," he said.

Then I saw them. The perfect shingles. Not exactly grey, and not exactly brown, with specks of the pinkish and off-whitish colors of the stone veneer of the house. There were four similar shades -- each one made by a different manufacturer. Finally, I decided.

The shingles on my new roof will be Owens Corning Supreme Driftwood.

Just another day in the life of a first-time home buyer.

And then there were two . . .

As if one blog were not enough to keep up with -- yes, I realize this is my first post in almost a week -- now I have two!

I have found my writing to be floundering, and yet with a slightly encouraging word from an editor who is currently reviewing my book proposal, I realized that to slow down now, or to just give up, would not be living up to my calling.

This new blog, though admittedly another time thief, also is devoted specifically to writing (unlike this blog which is devoted particularly to just about everything else).

So, if you're interested in what I do when I sit down at the computer each day -- the directions I'm going, the ideas I'm imaging, then check out the new blog at www.charitysingleton.net which is linked directly to my website.

Home Sweet Home

It's official. On September 20 I will become the proud owner of this house, complete with a brand new roof. (I may even get to choose the color of the shingles!)

Thank you, Jesus.

When is a Planet not a Planet?

When it's unfortunate enough to be Pluto.

Of all the things I learned about science growing up, there are very few things I remember besides the simple fact that there are 9 planets in our solar system. I'm not sure I even could name them -- but the number 9 has really stuck.

Now, I learn that there really are only 8 planets in our solar system. If Pluto is not really a planet, what's next? Is Pepsi not really a soft drink? Is basketball not really a sport? Is Pride and Prejudice not really a book?

Needless to say, this news has changed something in my little world. I'm not sure what, but something has changed.

Maybe knowing whether or not I'm really buying a house in 27 days will help me sort out these planetary problems.

Still waiting . . .

The Fine Art of Auntship

Next weekend, my nephew, Dylan, will celebrate his 6th birthday. I'll be at the birthday party, along with Dylan's sisters (my nieces), Katie and Lizzy, eating cake and ice cream, admiring all Dylan's gifts, and hearing stories about the first days of the new school year.

My niece Samantha, will have her 6th birthday the same day I turn 36 (October 24), and though I won't be at her party -- she lives in Florida -- I did get to spend a few days with her and her brother Dustin, my nephew, when they visited Indiana in July. We played games, looked at pictures, ate popsicles, and just enjoyed being together.

This past weekend, my brother, Gerry, and his wife, Carla, and their children, Zach, 13, and Erin, 9, visited from Wisconsin. I spent the past couple of days with Zach and Erin reading books, kicking soccer balls, playing with my dog, watching movies, taking day trips, and eating lots of snacks.

There's nothing like being an aunt. Especially as a single woman with no children, I find untold joy in being able to be a part of my brothers' children's lives. Maybe this role of aunt is a calling in itself -- not exactly like being a wife and mother, but significant all the same.

I think that's why a short piece on NPR's "Morning Edition" last Friday really caught my attention. In a segment called "StoryCorps: Recording America" where average Americans interview each other about people, places and events that represent part of the American life, a woman and her husband talked about her Aunt Mef and the significant role she played in her life.

The woman recalled a letter she had written to Aunt Mef, ending with the add-on idea: "But then, what are aunts for?" Mef's response came almost immediately -- and it cited Mrs. Miniver, the classic novel by Jan Struther. "Here's what I think aunts are for," she wrote. "Aunts are to be a pattern and example to all aunts, to be a delight to boys and girls, and a comfort to their parents -- and to show that at least one daughter in any generation, in every generation, ought to remain unmarried, and raise the profession of auntship to a fine art. Thank you, Karen, for reminding me of this. I shall have to keep trying again and again to live up to it."

Whether I remain unmarried is yet to be told, but I certainly do hope that I can be the kind of aunt that Mef wanted to be.

A Blessing Not A Burden

"No doubt about it! God is good— good to good people, good to the good-hearted. But I nearly missed it, missed seeing his goodness. I was looking the other way. . . ."

Psalm 73:1-3, The Message

Today, as I began fretting over the house again, I had a beatitudes moment (realizing that something that seems like a burden is actually a blessing, like in Matthew 5, "blessed are those who mourn").

Being in the middle of the house buying process is a gift -- not a curse. (A year ago I never would have even thought it possible to buy a house today.) And if I don't tell myself this truth at every turn, I will deceive myself and become a victim.

Presence

Today at 11:22 a.m. I started the countdown -- 2 hours, 38 minutes until my home inspection. Then I'll know. Either I'm buying a house or not. No more telling people, "I think I might be buying a house," and them asking, "Well, do you have an area in mind?" and me saying back, "Well, I actually made an offer and it's been accepted, but I'm being cautious." Then they look at me with that look that says, "What do you mean you might be buying a house?"

Then it was 11:37 -- 2 hours, 23 minutes. Finally, I can pick out my new refrigerator, talk to someone about getting the garage door replaced, and finally give notice to my apartment.

11:43 -- 2 hours, 17 minutes. I wonder if I can afford a new sofa, too.

11:49 -- 2 hours, 11 minutes.

Then I stopped. From the time I decided to buy a house, I've been resolute in wanting to embrace each part of this process. To stay firmly planted as I wait for each phase to unfold. I've had trouble sleeping, sure, and I've been anxious about offers, true. But I've tried hard to stay in the moment. To be present. And waiting for this inspection can be no different.

I said a quick prayer, "Lord, help me to be thankful for the time I am here at work and to be present in what I'm doing." And then I forced myself not to look at the clock every time I wanted to (I gave in about every third time).

This, I'm learning, is where patience begins.

The inspection happened, and much of it was positive. But just as we suspected, there are some issues with the roof, and unless the seller and/or his insurance company (hail damage) is willing to pay for the repair, the deal might be off. When will I know for sure? I don't know. I'll certainly know more tomorrow, but I'm guessing it will take at least several more days before adjusters can come out and estimates secured and decisions made. And a big part of me just wants to know now.

But a bigger part of me realizes that as I strive to be present in this process, I also must believe in faith that the Lord is very much present with me through this. He is walking with me, reminding me to wait. If I rush through this, I will no doubt miss learning more about who He is. And I also will miss learning the things he has for me to help me grow.

If I wait, there will be blessings. But not necessarily new houses with new roofs. The blessings of patience are more like perseverence and character and hope.

A new roof might keep the rain off, but hope will protect me from the storms.

Acceptance

After a couple of days of negotiations, my offer to buy the house has been accepted! Yesterday, I wrote out a check for my earnest money (the first in a long line of checks that will be written for this home, no doubt). And unless something catastrophic happens, I'll be a homeowner in 40 days.

I actually haven't been able to rejoice in the deal too much yet. I'm waiting for the inspection on Monday to be sure there are no hidden pitfalls. Then I guess I'll be waiting until closing to see if my credit score crumbles. Not to mention what if I suddenly take ill and wind up in the hospital (which is what happened just before the last time I moved). And then there's jury duty. Just today, I received notice that I've been called to jury duty the week of my closing. I'm going to try to get it deferred, but all of these "worries" have just confirmed my notion that home ownership is not the holy grail.

But I continue to be thankful to God for all the various ways he provides for me -- for all the roofs he's put over my head through the years. And if I'm learning anything about this real estate/homeownership process, it's to be thankful. God's creativity and provision continue to amaze me.

The Offer

I didn't sleep very well last night; today my stomach is upset; and I've been a little lightheaded most of the day. I'm not getting sick, though. Yesterday, I made an offer on my first house.

Waiting for big answers is nothing new for me. From medical tests to acceptance to college, the big results that have life-changing consequences are just part of life. But few others things have caused me quite the anxiety as waiting for a response from these people I've never met.

I think the difference here is that I'm actually not much of a negotiater. I'd rather tell them the first time what I can pay and have them tell me whether it's acceptable. If it doesn't work out, no hard feelings.

As it stands, it would be really incredible if they accept the offer I made (on the recommendation of my realtor and my dad). With all the stuff we're asking them to pay for, I'll be walking out of the closing with a check in my hand. But this is probably not the way things will actually go. The truth is, I'll probably have to come up on the price some, if they ask. I can haul the old refrigerators away myself on heavy trash day (I looked it up on the Indianapolis trash website). And the mini blinds? I'm not really that attached. As for all the little fix-up jobs that need to be done throughout the house? They'll probably have to wait until I can save more money -- just like everything else in life.

When it comes down to it, the whole process of buying my first home -- being preapproved for a mortgage, waiting for an accepted offer, planning the move-in, making it home -- it's all just like everything else in life, full of ups and downs. Grand expectations and disappointing let-downs. There's nothing magical about owning a home (except for maybe all the tax breaks), and my life is not going to be complete when I have to mow my own lawn.

So while this seems like a great opportunity, and I'll be disappointed if it doesn't work out, this is just the first offer on the first house. If asking them to pay the closing costs was just a little more than the sellers can bear and they don't even counter, I'll feel terrible for a little while, but I'll get up, shake off the dust, and live to make another offer.

Who Am I?

This was the title of a friend's recent blog posting as she pondered her identity as a writer. She had interviewed the author of Reconciliation Blues who recommended that all writers have a mission statement, a sense of purpose. Then she asked the readers of her blog, "So, tell me. In your profession, who are you?"

Her question really hit me. Lately I've felt like any writing I do is sort of hit and miss -- like I could really go in any direction. But that's not the way I want it to be.

For me, writing is a way I make sense of things, particularly the way I wrestle with who God is and what He is doing in my life. And when I'm writing, I feel most like the person God created me to be. It ushers me into his presence and gives me a real sense of his blessing. Even when it's hard.

That's when I thought of the phrase "wide open spaces" that I have been encountering throughout my Bible reading. Wide open spaces to the Israelites were real tracks of land that God used to remind them He was with them. In the New Testament, wide open spaces were more symbolic of God's grace.

When I write, I feel like I'm in the wide open spaces God made just for me, where He can show me again and again who He is.

I'm praying this new sense of focus in my blog and on my website serve as a constant reminder to me of what I'm really doing when I sit down to write.

And I hope they help you find your own wide open spaces.

In the Market

As I suggested in a recent post, I am now officially "in the market" to buy a home. And in addition to being scared to death that I'm biting off way more than I can chew, I'm also ecstatic! My own home!

For those of you who 1.) own your home already, 2.) know what a gigantic commitment this is, and 3.) fear that I may not know what I'm getting myself into, rest assured. I have tried to gather lots of advice on all the hidden costs (both financial and personal) of home ownership.

But I also have spent a lot of time wondering what it is that compels me to buy a house in the first place. Is it the economic benefit of accumulating equity and investing in my future? Is it the social pressure to accumulate things? Is it my innate need for control and possession? Is it a response to President Bush's "Ownership Society" speech?

Why should I get to own a home with several rooms when many people around the world are lucky to have one borrowed room to share with their whole family?

And most importantly, does God want me to own a house? Will it bring glory to Jesus and help me grow? Do these questions even matter?

Charity Singleton

In case you were wondering . . . PART 2

So, I asked a question at the end of the last posting, yet there was no link for comments (another product of my technological ineptitude, no doubt!).

Here's an actual opportunity to respond: any other questions?

Charity Singleton

In case you were wondering . . .

For faithful readers who have been with me since this blog's inception, a few updates:

From "Wide Open Spaces":
1.) I was able to plant some flowers in one of the forbidden zones around my apartment, with the warning of "at your own risk." The landscapers will not be responsible for ruining anything with their spraying, chopping or blowing.
2.) Some perennials that came up on their own in another bed were annihilated by the aforementioned landscapers.
2.) I'm in the market for a new place to live. This time, I'll hopefully be buying!

From "Trouble in Blogville":
1.) Rewriting paid off again. Discipleship Journal magazine bought another of my articles.
2.) I'm trying not to rewrite my blogs more than once. Or twice.
3.) I'm obviously still not blogging often enough.
4.) My friend Laura recommended a book about blogging that will help. Check out her blog: Seedlings in Stone.

From "Hug a Farmer":
1.) My tomatoes are ripening!
2.) I think the farmer I mentioned at the market really could use a hug. Last time I was there I had to prompt him to tell me about the different varieties of zucchini. I think the heat was getting to him.
3.) I "put up" some tomatoes, peppers, corn, and zucchini for the winter. (That means I chopped them, put them in little baggies, and stuffed them in my freezer.)

Any other questions?

Charity Singleton

Vigilance

"I will watch my ways." -- Psalm 39:1

If I were to describe my life in artistic terms, lately, I've felt more like a stick drawing than a textured oil painting or a three-dimensional sculpture.

Here's some signs: the TV is on a little more, I don't walk as much as I should, I get out of bed just minutes before I need to leave the house, and I stay up late wasting time (which is kind of why I am even blogging right now, to be honest). My writing sessions also have been unproductive. And I'm not reading much. Especially not the Bible.

This afternoon, when I did actually pick up a book, I read a chapter in Gary Thomas's The Glorious Pursuit called "Awakened Living: Vigilance" that nailed my present situation.

Thomas writes, "Vigilance will sometimes show us we've sunken into a habitually bad mood or slipped into a terrible attitude. Sometimes we'll see how we've been actively courting temptation or have become overcommitted. Vigilance helps us assess the truth about our lives, so we can turn from our weaknesses and find divine help."

After reading this passage, I knew immediately what my problem has been. I've lost my "vigilance." I'm not being watchful over my soul.

Vigilance is "the attitude that allows the Holy Spirit space and time to show us what's really going on inside us." As an introspective person, this kind of self reflection is usually a natural part of every day. But laziness and lethargy have lulled me to take my interior life for granted. The result: who I am has become more and more shallow, and my self-awareness, both my awareness of sin and my identity in Christ, is fading.

There's nothing in our culture that makes vigilance easy for us. But the shallowness and dullness of not being watchful make vigilance the only way to truly become who God wants me to be.

Charity Singleton