Happily Ever After

Three years ago last week, we moved into our new-to-us home. It's not large or fancy, just a simple brick rancher built in the 50s, but it's perfect for us. The moment we walked in the front door, we knew it was our home. 

The house sits on a hill across from a park my sisters and I used to visit as children. I have a distinct memory of leaving the park one day, looking up the hill and thinking, "I wish I lived in one of those houses."  

Wish granted, my friends. 

And they lived happily ever after.

But maybe not all the time. Like any house that's 70 years old, our home requires a little patience sometimes.

The windows are original, and leaf particles literally blow through their unsealed edges. The wooden doors and windows swell and stick in the humidity. The garbage disposal has quirks, and so does the kitchen sink. You get the idea.  

Last year, we invested in a waterproofing system for the basement. It stopped the perpetual flooding in our son's bedroom, and we were so relieved. Then the basement flooded in a brand new location last week.

Two days later, the waterproofing spray we used to seal cracks outside created an odor so intense inside the house that we needed to open the windows. But the windows - those beautiful, original wooden windows - were swollen in the humidity and wouldn't open. 

When even my 15-year-old son couldn't open them, I climbed onto the countertop and pulled on the window with all my strength. Tugging fruitlessly in a fuzzy, inhalant-fogged state, I screamed, “I HATE this house!” 

(I know. I know.)

Of course the truth is that I do not hate this house. I love this house with its original floors and arched doorways and streaming sunlight through abundant windows. I love the fireplace and the warmth. I love how it has always felt exactly like home. 

I love this house because it's the literal fulfillment of my childhood dreams. 

And as it turns out, sometimes even a dream-come-true needs maintenance, attention, and work. 

Sometimes the dream comes with work to do. 

In couples counseling, I often tell clients we've been taught the wrong thing about love and marriage. Movies tell us if it's true love, it shouldn't take much work. They tell us if it's meant to be, it won't require maintenance, or attention. 

But the truth is that anything valuable - even the answer to our prayers - requires effort. And if we're not doing the work to maintain it, we might find ourselves forgetting it was our dream come true in the first place.  

With literal storms on the horizon here, we've been putting in the work to prepare our home and protect it from more flooding today. Maybe it'll work, and maybe we'll be up late with towels and the shop vac again. Either way, we're putting in the work because we love this home. And that makes even the wettest nights worth the effort. (Remind me of that later just in case, ok?) 

Happily enough ever after, 

Becki