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Selling this house has changed our language

July 18, 2017

2I have found out that our family has now entered into the Babel Zone.  Much like the story of the language disaster found in the excellent narrative in the eleventh chapter of Genesis, we have started talking in a language that is starting to scare people.

You might call it Home Seller Babble.  My wife Jill and I and even daughter Julie have been so obsessed with selling our home that we now prattle on in ways that are scaring even our dearest friends.

I admit it.  I try to steer the conversation other ways, but it keeps coming back to our house being on the market.

Jacob:  “The Awaken Coffee House has some pretty decent latte.”

Me: “And you wouldn’t believe the floor plan in our basement.  We’ve even had mold remediation!”

Twelve-year-old Julie went to a party and upon noticing the decorations, immediately used them as a visual tool to explain a Balloon Mortgage.

Even Jill has been seen wandering around the Turkey Creek Shopping Complex murmuring “MLS.  MLS.” for hours on end, only stopping to ask total strangers if they’d like to purchase a home complete with a two car garage and a roof that is only three years old.  More than once security has been called.

We’re speaking in short bursts now, fixated on any chance to introduce a potential buyer to our property.

Tiffany:  “Our little girl got a rash on her arm.”

Me:  “When you say ARM, are you referring to an Adjustable Rate Mortgage?”

Tiffany:  (takes daughter and quietly leaves)

We have learned that our dependence on God is often clouded by our panic that we may not sell the house before the next Presidential administration, but we’re slowly becoming more attuned to God’s leading and a need for more patience.

I am reminded that no matter how long and monotonous the whole ordeal has become, God has us covered.  He’s got the timeline, the buyers and even the closing costs all settled ahead of time.

It brings to mind the time years back when we rented a cabin Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.  On the second day of our vacation we decided to go to the Community Center and take a morning swim before going on a hike in the Smokies.  Looking at the deeply cloudy sky, we knew that we wouldn’t be getting any tans that day, but the urge to swim was so great that we got to the Center just as it was opening.

I am not making any of this up.  This is exactly what happened.

I had changed back at the cabin and was ready to dive in, but Jill and Julie brought their swimsuits, flip flops and other gear along with them.  They would go to the changing area and meet me at the outdoor pool.

I trotted out to the poolside and was struck by the scene.  There was nobody else there.  The four lifeguards were standing around, but as I stepped onto the concrete, they quickly ran to their stations.

Now, this is a good-sized pool, about 25 yards long, if I remember right.  I walked over and dropped my towel on a chair and was hesitant.  “Um, is it okay to go in?” I stupidly asked the nearest lifeguard.

“Oh, yessir,” she responded without a smile.  “You go right in.  We’ll be watching.”

“But… it’s just me.  Do you need all of you up there, even that guy over there, that one about three miles away? I mean, you all could stand around and talk and just glance over once in a while…”

She was very professional.  “Oh, that’s okay, sir.  When anyone is in the pool, we are all to be on duty.”  The other three had me in their gaze. All serious.

I really wanted to swim and yet Jill and Julie were inside talking to some locals about restaurants.  If I knew my history, that could mean thirty minutes or more.  And I really wanted to swim.

But if you have ever seen me in the water, you will realize that I really don’t swim.  I sort of frog-kick and then thrash around like a submarine with a ballast problem.  I like what I’m doing, but to tell the truth, I look embarrassing.

And there were four lifeguards watching this huge pool.  And still nobody else came. Jill and Julie were still inside. I could see them through the windows.

So I dove in.  Well, kind of like a half belly-flop.  And then I started swimming.

It was so surreal.  I was all alone, and the distinct knowledge that four very concerned lifeguards were zoned in on only me was both uncomfortable… and yet fun.  It was that way for about twenty minutes.  Four lifeguards locked in on my every move.

They were fixated on my safety.  I could see their eyes when I came up for air.

I fancied an attempt to try a fake drowning, just to see all four bump heads as they tried to reach me from four different angles.   But I didn’t, and I felt like I was drifting along under the eye of the Secret Service.  It was, well,  kind of cool.

And I realize that this is the way God is looking over us as we are selling the house.   Think about it – He has us covered from every angle.  The Father is lifeguarding us.   He is fixated on our every move, and wants only the best for us.  He is on every side, watching us as we move through the waters of this whole business.

The New Heart Bible gives Psalm 32:8 as “I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you shall go. I will counsel you with my eye on you.”

His eye is on us.  He leads and protects.  And He watches over us.

Even in selling a house.

 

 

 

 

 

Dr. Zockoll
Brad Kent Zockoll   Knoxville TN 2017

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