I Don't Think It was the Devil's Fault
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I turned to exit the small church kitchen and almost bumped into her. A local realtor and mother in my homeschool co-op, an acquaintance, cornered me to warn about moving seven miles up the road. “Nevada City is dangerous,” she said. “Satan hangs out there. Are you sure you want to do this?”
No wonder I didn’t choose her as our realtor.
In 2009, Todd and I had lived in our rural area for six years. At the first house we bought, you can go months without running into your next-door neighbor. The driveways are steep, and it’s not designed for walking. Have you heard the expression, “There’s no there there?” That was our dilemma. We loved our backyard. The kids played in the year-round creek and undeveloped land behind our house. But the brothers were getting older and restless. Anything we wanted to do involved getting in the car. We often talked about moving into town. So, when a three-story Victorian farmhouse on a landscaped half-acre came on the market at a reasonable price, we jumped on it. It provided rental income, and we could walk to ice cream, breakfast, and the Fourth of July parade. Despite the recession, we were able to take the plunge (I’m still not sure how we dodged that bullet, tbh.) “Let’s do this!” we decided. We didn’t care that the porch was only plywood, and there wasn’t really a kitchen. It didn’t matter that all the light fixtures were different and none of the (gross old) carpet matched. And it didn’t matter that Nevada City was spiritually funky. This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.* We were going to live in the heart of our small town in a house with a literal white picket fence. We were going to homeschool while Todd telecommuted and be awesome landlords (we kinda were awesome landlords, actually). We were going to remodel a kitchen for the third time in our marriage, no problem!
But, living in Nevada City did not go well, especially for me. It wasn’t because of demons, though it would have been easier to believe that. It was because we put the pedal to the metal and bit off more than we could chew. Friends, you might be like the people that used to hang over my fence to take pictures. It’s easy to romanticize the 100-year-old homes that decorate many downtowns. But to actually make them structurally sound, warm, and level with updated plumbing is a whole different ball game. Our mortgage was low, especially with the rental income, but we felt all the time like we didn’t have money. Like replacing the floors throughout, the things that needed to be done cost WAY more than we could ever imagine paying. There’s a lot more to this story, but let’s just say, for now, this level of stress exposed a lot of cracks in a twenty-year marriage.
It felt like the house constantly yelled at me about all the things it needed. I tried to be satisfied in the gardens, but I couldn’t keep up with the landscaping needs. I hated being able to hear the freeway and having to sleep under streetlamps. The only place I could call my own was an overstuffed chair in my tiny bedroom. The kids were getting older, and we were constantly on the go. My standards were ridiculously high - for the house, for the company we kept, and for the way I believed I needed to parent. My ability to function as a healthy human being began ebbing away, but I was too busy to notice. It was at this house that I started to drink alone. Drinking alone should have been a red flag, I suppose. And it was. But when we get in over our heads, it’s hard not to drown when you start gulping water (or alcohol) instead of air. I couldn’t breathe, and the tide was taking me farther and farther from shore.
One of my girlfriends told me at the time, “Just sell it.” So when the house we’d sold to buy the rundown farmhouse came on the market three years later, we bought it and moved back. Yes, I have purchased the same house twice.
I love my house. I love feeling like I live in a park. When we revisited it to buy it the second time, I stood on the hardwood floors we put in ourselves talking with our realtors. The ground felt solid under my feet. We’ve been back for six years and continue to make it our own. But the kids are gone, and that can still feel like a hole. I wish I could tell you things started to turn around for us when we moved back. But the teen years were rocky, and my alcohol abuse didn’t stop right away. Todd and I live with a mixed bag of memories here. We crawled back to each other and found peaceful living. But, we find ourselves having a lot of conversations about moving. Again.
Do we stay, or do we go? It’s a great anecdote to tell people we bought our house twice, but it seems crazy to say we sold it twice. Do we stay in the area? Wait to see where our kids settle? The practical answer is to stay put. But this week, we found a house that seemed to check all the boxes. In this market, I know to hold Zillow discoveries at arm’s length. But I talked to a realtor about it. Friends, I could have walked to my day job! However, no surprise, the house was pending in four days.
I am someone who looks for the big picture. I want to know the story behind the story. It was easy for me to believe God had a purpose for me, though this is no longer part of my canon. But this week, I’ve been asking myself why Todd and I are wrestling with this again. I don’t know the answer yet. We ultimately decided to give it a year (Hey Siri, remind me to change my Zillow notifications so I don’t torture myself).
One of the reasons I don’t like getting older is that decisions are made practically. Ignorance is no longer bliss. Time feels shorter, and we understand we need to consider five, ten, even twenty years down the line. It’s great to have vision, and the Internet is full of memes telling us to dream big and reach for the stars. But my health must be taken into account, and my husband doesn’t need to work until death to fuel our ideals. There are a lot of advantages to living a simple and peaceful life. But I still get restless. I watch my daughter chase adventure. I worry about being the couple who watches TV during dinner whose only goal is to pay off their mortgage. What if my kids don’t want to return to their childhood home because it’s boring here? And if they all move out of state, we’re going to want to follow them. It’s practical to stay put for so many reasons.
The songbirds agree.
This time of year, the birds sing me awake. I feel very lucky.