It was a fall night, 2006. The high school girls in my youth group had started meeting at my home. We were reading a book together (Honest to God– I highly recommend it). I would put a worship CD on quietly and the girls would spread out. To every room in the house. And read. And work out their salvation. And seek intimacy with God.
One night, I remember walking through the house, seeing girls sitting in every chair, snuggled in every bed, sitting up, laying down, one even (fully clothed!) in a dry bathtub. Pen in hand, journal laid open, Bible near by, book highlighted on every page.
My home was covered in God lovers.
It remains to this day the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Literally, it is a dream come true. I have always wanted a “grown-up” house where students felt welcomed and loved. Where girls could laugh and eat ice cream or lay on the couch and weep over a broken heart. I wanted them to know that my house was their house.
So I bought this house and I created this space.
Because I wanted to see this.And it has happened. Time and time again. To the point where some of these girls feel as comfortable in my house as they do in their own. NOTHING touches my heart like hearing that.
Saturday night, after an AMAZING conference at our church, some of these girls (and their guy friends whom I also happen to adore and LOVE having in my home) came over. Some of my favs were home from different places (college, Africa, you know….). We made cookies and ate ice cream out of the carton. We watched select scenes from Aladdin and talked about God. We sat around. We stood around. We laughed hysterically. It was one of the nights that will live in the memory folder titled “it was worth every penny to buy this house”.
That same night, an offer was made on my home. And two days later, the contract is signed. And, if everything goes according to plan, we will close on March 31st.
Less than a month. That’s a short mourning period, if you ask me. A short time to say goodbye to a million things- not just the washer/dryer and the paint colors (French Castle being my favorite), but the memories. The opportunities. The nights of eating ice cream out of the carton with some of my best friends. The steps where I once laid down and wept until I couldn’t catch my breath. The couch where I have taken more than my government allotment of naps. The closet that doubled as a recording studio. The roommates. The best bedroom I have ever had, so serene and peaceful (thank you, French Castle).
[Not to mention- a month is a short time to pack all my junk! Sheesh.]
I thank God for selling this house. It’s a necessary step towards where He is calling me. And I understand that things could fall through and nothing is sealed yet. But barring any weird thing in the next few days, my house will be sold and it will be clear that He has done this great thing for me. (Psalm 126:3)
But I also thank Him for every single day I got to live here. And for how He always met me at the front door.
I see God in every corner of this house. I pray, genuinely, that the next owners experience the same thing and even MORE of His presence. May every tear spilled at God’s feet, every prayer uttered, and every scripture read, leave a lasting impact on this place. And may every owner in the future be affected by the presence of the living God, who chose to dwell with His girls, His people, here.