After an obscene amount of initials and full name signatures, we are homeowners.
The toilet is broken, we are missing our trim, and there is accidental paint on the ceiling, but it is "ours".
The Friday we closed, we picked out paint and I began painting our future dining room by myself. As I clumsily glopped paint from my roller to the wall, I began to pray over this house, soon to be home. I prayed that it would not only be a refuge for our weary bodies, but also for those in need of refuge. I prayed that it would be filled with peace and absolutely oozing with the love of Christ. I prayed over the rooms that would shelter our future children, whether fruit of my loins or offspring of my heart, that they might know the one they need. I prayed over the kitchen where people seem to congregate in every home. I prayed over the yard where a very special little boy is going to celebrate two miraculous years of life in July.
This house is something we thought about, sought after, and now we are here. This is probably one of the most practical ministry tools that we've been given in a while. I am thankful.
We've been here a full week now. There are copious amounts of odds and ends without a place, boxes unpacked, a bathroom to be painted, and pictures to be hung, but it's "ours". Already, in one week, there have been meals shared, discipleship held, and neighbors met.
As we open handedly claim this home as "ours," we wait with bated breath for God to fill this place with his love and his people and his projects.
I guess that's what makes a house a home.
