As most of us are aware, the housing market is in an unprecedented season right now. This unprecedented season also happens to coincide with my husband Aaron and I preparing to buy a home.
We began our search about six weeks ago, and though we’d heard from friends and acquaintances just how insane the process has been for them in recent months, we were not prepared for the toll the emotional rollercoaster would have on us. We weren’t prepared for weeks to feel like months.
As I write, we have our eighth (eighth!) offer in and aren’t holding our breath. I think we’ve become more numb with each offer that isn’t accepted, a psychological defense against insanity.
We’re spending every spare moment we have aside from our work and studies combing through listings, chatting up our realtor, scheduling showings, and driving around town to see (now nearly fifty!) homes.
We’re exhausted. We’re depleted. We remain hopeful, but it’s difficult. Just yesterday, after a long day of looking at homes, I said to Aaron, “Maybe we should just go buy a lottery ticket, because I think we have a better chance of winning the lotto than having an offer accepted on a house!” It does seem that way.
Through these last weeks, and through my impatience, I’ve pondered what this process has to teach me. What I came back to after each disappointing phone call of rejection was the call to perseverance, patience, and trust.
This is not to say I haven’t felt frustration and overwhelm, and haven’t wanted to throw in the towel. I most definitely have! Aaron and I have kept each other moving forward in the process—me encouraging him when he’s felt the heaviness of it all, him encouraging me when I’ve wanted to call it quits—a true gift of companionship.
What I’ve learned is that frustration and disappointment are not to be avoided. Desiring situations to be different is not to be avoided. Missing the mark is not to be avoided. It is our nature. It is who we are as human beings.
What I’ve also learned is that experiences of life that weigh us down provide an opportunity for practicing the presence of the Divine.
The practice is not in striving to avoid our natural tendencies, our strong emotions. The practice is in the return—the return to center, to peace, to patience.
I don’t know what the outcome of our search will be. It could be a home of our own or it could be that now is not the time. I know what I want, but, as our realtor Olivia has reminded us from the beginning, “What’s meant to be will be.”
In the end, I trust that’s true. Until then, I’ll do my best to practice the return.