We've engaged in a little back-and-forth with a couple that is interested in the Spokane house. Their initial offer wasn't good, and we gave them our absolute rock-bottom price, hoping they would take it and we'd be done. Our realtor would be making far less than usual, we'd get just enough to cover the loan and closing costs, and that's it. We honestly cannot go lower.
They lowballed us again. Our kind realtor told them that, by law, he was required to inform us of their offer, but that he knew we couldn't accept it, explaining that we would not be making any money on the house at the price we were asking - we were merely covering costs and getting it sold. He then said that he'd be filling it with renters one way or another - for us or for them - that would take good care of it because the renters would be Moody students and would have a very strict code of conduct that forbids alcohol. He told them that, should they take it at our price, he would personally see to it that they would be able to rent it until their son could move in (about a year and a half away).
"Sounds good," they said. "Let us talk it over and run the numbers on our end. We will let you know by Saturday."
Our realtor is cautiously optimistic, and when Rob relayed all this information to me last night, immediately after he got off the phone, I sat down, put my head in my hands, and burst into tears. I don't dare hope, and yet I don't dare embrace cynicism in this latest go-round.
I've been a bit of a mess this week (for a bunch of reasons, all too dull or personal to go into here), but my response still surprised me. I didn't realize I was so emotionally caught up in this place, but it makes sense. Until that house is dealt with (sold or rented), we won't be able to move ahead with selling the condo. Until the condo is gone and we've found someplace else we'd like to live with slightly more room and - dare I hope? - a yard and figured out the financing, we can't really think about adding to our family. And while babies aren't all that I think about, I worry that I am running out the time on the famous "Myers Girls' Fertility," that Blake will be so old he'll miss out on the companionship that siblings can bring and just be relegated to babysitter, that we'll only be able to afford a home if I continue to work (or even work more) after having kids.
For me and my heart, it is all revolving around this one house and how, no matter how scrupulously I try not to make eye-contact with the fact, my life looks so very differently than I ever imagined.
Rob still handles me well, still carries on with grace and humor and "Dear Lord, what did I get myself into?!" We're doing our very best, and while I know that God's promise of abundance for my future did not begin and end with a husband after big Blake died, I feel like I'm back in survival mode, just getting by. It is hard not to be discouraged.*
*As I proof this, Blake is in his room, watching Looney Tunes on his little DVD player and giggling a bunch... So there's a bright spot for us. I am in love with that boy far more than I ever experienced during my last survival mode when he was first born. He is a joy, except when he's got a case of the grumples.