House Matters

It’s a conversation the hubby and I have had numerous times since buying this house six years ago.

Should we stay or should we sell?

For the past two years, I've repeated more times than he cares to hear that I think we might as well stay put for the long haul. I’ve had a hard time reconciling that selling, at least selling anytime in the near future, means we would walk away with a substantial loss.

“We’ll make this house into what we want it to be,” has been my constant refrain.

I also don’t like the idea of starting over on a 30-year mortgage.

Despite this, I have many moments when the desire for more, more, more clouds my thoughts.

Maybe you know what I mean: Bigger is better. Bigger means we have more money (or we can at least create the illusion we do). Daily life would be more enjoyable if we lived in a neighborhood that had a pool or friendlier neighbors. 

On and on it goes until I work myself into a frenzy. I start looking at real estate magazines and inputting numbers into an online mortgage calculator to figure out how much we could spend. I always end up going much higher than we actually could afford.

I know this thinking is false, but I so easily fall into the trap of trying to make something happen that isn't supposed to happen.

The real truth is that a bigger house means more cleaning, more stress related to a higher mortgage payment and less money to travel. None of those are things I truly desire.

That all-important inner voice that guides me is not leading me to a new home.

So why do I still find myself envious of those that live in certain neighborhoods or have 4,000 square feet homes or have nannies and maids to help around the house?

As my dad told me yesterday when I was fretting about something entirely different: “You care too much about what other people think.”

He’s right.

My whole life I have struggled with this.

It’s the reason I find myself desiring a different home when the one we lay down in every night is more than suitable. 

That's why tonight, I’m reminding myself of some important things.

This is the house I brought both my children home to as newborns. This is the house where we celebrated the first birthday for both of them. This is the house that my husband and I have laughed in, loved in, fought in. This is the house whose walls know all our secrets. This is the house that provides shelter and warmth, not just in its insulation and structure, but through the love that resides in it.

This is the house that holds my best memories, and I am more content at this time in my life than I can ever remember.

Why would I desire anything more?