Living Near

Yes, I’m buying the house I wasn’t looking at buying.

And yes, the ice melted – see previous post When Ice Melts – but I was mistaken about the homeowner’s heart. What I took his email to mean and what the homeowner meant it to mean were two different things. In short, nothing had changed. He was throwing me bones, but there was no meat on them.

While I was becoming less comfortable working with him, the actual reason we didn’t do a purchase agreement came down to one issue neither of us were willing to compromise on (an issue a real estate attorney counseled me not to compromise on).  Our last conversation ended with an understanding that if I did not get back to him the next morning that he would put the house on the market.

I didn’t get back to him.

While this issue was enough to let the house go, there were  a growing list of other reasons.

One day, as I sat with the homeowner in his living room and as he was going on and on about how meticulously he had restored his home, my mind drifted.  I thought, “What a shame that I was going to paint all this rather well preserved woodwork.”  I’m personally not a woodwork-to-die-for person. I don’t have to see the lines in the wood to appreciate wood. I can appreciate white woodwork for its form which I will argue is better appreciated without the lines.  Besides, why did God give us paint?

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And not just was it going to be a shame, it was going to be a pain.  The house had many windows, many mullions, many with leaded glass …and bevels. They were beautiful.  And would be even more beautiful framed in white rather than oak with its busy grain pattern.  But then I thought of how much life I was going to give to painting just the windows…

…And the ongoing need to wash them.  I’m not a big window washing person.  I can see through a lot of dirt before I see the dirt.  I like clean windows.  I just like a lot of things more than cleaning them.

And the wood floors he had spent weeks upon weeks refinishing himself?  Too orange.   I was going to refinish.  And the crystal wall sconces he spent 15 minutes telling me the story of how long and carefully he painted around them?  Too fussy.   They were going to be the first lights to go.  The crystal chandeliers in the living room?  Too much.  Too over-the-top.   The built-in buffet?  Was in the way of the too-small kitchen getting bigger.

I was able to convince myself that once I owned the house I was free to do whatever I wanted with it.  Yet the woodwork nagged me.  I knew I would have to answer to many for painting it.  I even tried to think of ways to get it painted before anyone saw the wood.  But I know wood people.  They will ask.  And I will have to answer to them.

What I came to realize is that I didn’t really need a beautiful house. In fact, what I actually needed was an ugly house.  I needed one I could do whatever I wanted with and stay under the radar of the woodwork police.

So, in the end, I decided to stay with the advice I was given and not compromise on a not-to-be-compromised issue.  While I will never understand why the homeowner  wouldn’t compromise – he, in reality, had nothing to lose, I understand a God who’s loving-kindness directs hearts:  Mine away from the house.  The homeowner’s away from compromise.

It took the homeowner 10 days to put the house on the market. It showed up on Monday.

Monday was the day the seller accepted my offer for the house I wasn’t looking at buying.

Makes one wonder what God thinks of painted woodwork.

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