Breathe

A little over a year ago, I wrote about our journey from Michigan to Tennessee to Ohio and back.  I wrote about what, exactly, we came back to, and the challenges we faced.  You can read that story HERE. (Click the link!)

Once we were finally settled back here in Michigan, we knew we had to make some changes.  We decided we either needed to keep our current home and add onto it, as three bedrooms and seven people make living quite "entertaining", or find a new place to call home.  We casually looked at houses with our ever-so-patient Realtor, and perused building plans for a possible addition.  Jason and I ultimately decided that if we hadn't found a new home by the time the school year ended, we would stop searching and break ground on the new addition.

Although we have lived in many homes over the years, this time we became professional house hunters.  We searched all of the popular websites, we had our friends sending us potential houses, we had friends of friends sending us potential houses, we searched down back roads and through towns we had never really blinked at before.  We looked at newly-built homes and old, falling down homes. We knew when a house sold or a new one came on the market, and nothing was right.  Every house I walked into felt like someone else's home, not mine.  And then, in early June, Jason sent me a link to a house listed on Craigslist.  By this time, the links we sent each other throughout the day became something of a joke: "Wanna live in a two bedroom home and put on an epic addition?" or "How about this one without a driveway?  I mean, do we really need a driveway?" or "Never mind the house, with all that land we could BUILD a dream home!"  With only a couple of weeks left in the school year, I had basically ruled out the idea of moving.  But I opened the link, read the short description, and scrolled through the pictures.  The home didn't jump off the screen at me.  In fact, with the square footage and the fact that it had only one bathroom, wouldn't this be a step backwards?
We decided to go see the house anyway.  Jason and I were both feeling pretty desperate at this point, and going to look at houses is always an adventure, right?  So, we loaded the kids into the car and headed across town.  And kept driving.  Where were we?  Cows, horses, sheep?   I didn't know our little town stretched this far!  Finally, we arrived.  And there it was: The old house with an even older barn, and acres of corn and room to breathe.

We were greeted by the daughter (Mrs. K) and son-in-law (Mr. K) of the woman who had lived there.  Mrs. G, as I will call her, and her husband, Mr. G, who had purchased the farm in 1959, had both passed away and the house was left in a trust to their seven children.  Our family was greeted warmly by the couple and as we entered the house, it felt like stepping back in time.  From the big kitchen with the vintage cabinetry, to the butler's pantry with thick, peeling wallpaper, to the dining room with its original windows, to the stone fireplace in the family room, to the skinny staircase that led to the second story bedrooms, to the Michigan basement with its stone walls and low ceiling that I was unable to fully stand up in, it was clear that this was not the kind of house we had been looking at.  At every turn there was something interesting: a little owl plant hanger attached to the wall, a bell near the back door, an eagle over the front door.  What stories did this house know?  What had it seen?  I wanted to know everything.  Luckily, Mrs. K was willing to talk as long as I was willing to listen. She wasn't trying to sell us a house, she was offering us the opportunity to live in the home she had known for almost her entire life.

When the kids started to get unruly, which never takes that long, we all went outside.  They peeked inside two little sheds, attempted to go into the barn, (which I was certain would fall over if the wind caught it just right) and sampled apples from the apple tree in the backyard.  Eventually, we said our goodbyes and piled back into the car.  We always voted after we looked at a house, which usually ended in mostly no's with one or two of us declaring that they "really liked that one!"  This time, the vote ended differently.  This time, the vote was unanimous: seven votes for YES, THIS IS THE HOUSE!

Although we loved the house, and the idea of moving from a house on a cul-de-sac in a subdivision to a farm with a lot of acreage, there were still many things to consider.  First of all, the house had a serious slant, which I found endearing but Jason found alarming.  Second, there was one bathroom and seven of us.  Third, there were several things the house didn't have that we had grown very used to: air conditioning, a garbage disposal, a dishwasher, city water.  Fourth: The barn really was going to fall down.  What would we do about that?  Oh, and fifth: Our current house wasn't even for sale.  THAT could pose a problem.

I had an out of town race that weekend, so we decided to think on it for a few days.  And let me tell you: I thought about it.  In fact, I couldn't stop thinking about it.  We had always looked at older homes and ended up buying the houses that just needed minor face lifts.  But I had always dreamed of restoring an old home-to make it how it once was.  To live in a house with that much history would be amazing!  And the kids hadn't stopped thinking about it either.  There was talk of horses and barn cats and bunnies and, "Mom, THERE'S SO MUCH ROOM TO RIDE DIRT BIKES!"

We had a discussion with Mr. and Mrs. K, letting them know that we were interested in the property but we had a house to sell.  Finally, it was decided that they would give us sixty days to obtain a purchase agreement on our house.  Sixty days.  PRESSURE.

Words cannot begin to describe how stressful those days were.  I think in the first thirty days we had twenty showings.  Twenty people who said they loved the house and loved the location and not a single offer. Twenty times I had to have my house show-ready with five kids off on summer vacation.  We had reduced our asking price twice in that thirty day period and we didn't want to go any lower. When it was proposed that we try a third reduction, we were ready to call it quits.  Jason and I were not willing to take a loss on our current house in order to sell it and move on.  Our Realtor urged us to consider one last drop in price and stick it out for another couple of weeks.  By this point, we were frustrated and angry and feeling hopeless.  We had made several more requested visits to the farm house, and every time we went, we heard more stories about its past.  Stories of the seven children born to Mr. and Mrs. G.  Stories of the family who had lived there with twenty children.  (And here we were worried about our family of seven fitting in!)  A story of the first family who had built the house and how when the husband passed away had willed to his wife a portion of the property along with a cow of her choosing every year, and had left the remaining land to be split between his daughters.  A story of the family trading labor and cows in exchange for the beautiful cabinetry that was built in the kitchen.  A story of when Mr. G gathered stones from the corn field to build the amazing fireplace in the family room.  A story of Mrs. G directing the choir at their little church and all of the sheet music that was still upstairs and where she kept her piano in the home.

Sometimes, I'd really want to go see the house again but it hadn't even been a week since the last time and I didn't want to bother Mr. and Mrs. K, so I'd take the kids and we'd drive by and if no one was there we'd pull in the driveway and just dream.  Dream about it being ours and where we'd put a swing and what our horses would look like and what we'd name our barn cats, and who would sleep in which bedroom, and what delicious desserts we'd bake with the apples from our tree.

I felt like I was holding my breath.  I was waiting, impatiently, for some news.  For one of those second showings to turn in to an offer.  Please.  And, then, at the very end of July, it came.  We got an offer, and it was an offer we could live with.  It was an offer we could MOVE with.

We set up a time to meet Mr. and Mrs. K at the farm house; we wanted to tell them the news in person.  I think as our agreement got closer and closer to that sixty day mark, they were also feeling a little hopeless.  When Jason and I told them that we had an official purchase agreement on our house and we were ready to move ahead with the purchase of the farm, they had to have been relieved.  After all, they had been entrusted to make sure that they not only sold their family home, but also that it would be in good hands.  I think we all needed the summer it took to make the sale happen.  We needed to hear the stories of the house and the land, and they needed to know that this part of them would be taken care of.  I am sure their emotions were very mixed, but I can tell you one thing for sure: they were unimaginably happy that a family full of children would once again be living-really living-in this home.

The month of August was a whirlwind.  We not only had to pack, but we had to decide what would go to the new house and what would go into storage.  We were planning an immediate addition of a laundry room, master bedroom, bathroom and closet, but in the meantime, our new house had just two closets, and no garage or basement for storage.  There was also an elementary school change, and bus schedules to change, along with all of the regular back to school goings on.  And, of course, there were more visits to the farm before it was officially ours.

In the middle of August, we lost Jason's Grandma Lois at the age of 100.  Grandpa Ro and Grandma Lo had 40 acres here in our town where they raised five children and built their own little compound which is split between farm land and the homes of some of their children and grandchildren.  Ro and Lo were all about family and keeping family together.  On the day we said our final goodbyes to Grandma Lo, we received word from the bank that the farm would officially be ours.  Could it have been more perfect?  After the funeral, several (many) of Jason's family members just had to sneak a peak of our new endeavor and might have bombarded the farmhouse to check it out.  Yes, we knew we had our hands full with this house, but we felt excited and privileged to have this opportunity.  Ro and Lo certainly were smiling down on us, watching us take our young family on our own path, much like they did 67 years ago.

With September came the first week of school, which also was the week the farm would be officially ours.  We signed all of the documents needed and invited Mr. and Mrs. K to stop over any time.  Although the house was now ours, we wanted them to still be a part of it.  And while I would've been happy just to own the house, getting to know the family who had lived and loved here has really been the best gift.

We have lived here almost six months now, and a lot of work has been done, which I will get to in later posts.  I have learned so much about construction and repair and renovation, but I've learned more than just those things.  We've met almost everyone on our road now-there's a mix of generations-old farms and people fairly new to this area.  Along with sheep and horses, there's a white cow down the road who chases me when I run past, and while we wait for the morning bus, we count the number of rooster calls we hear in the darkness.  Across the street there is a little blonde girl with glasses who happens to share the exact same birthdate as our little blonde girl with glasses, and the two houses next to her miraculously have two boys who love nothing more than dirt bikes.  I run into neighbors and friends of neighbors and friends of friends of neighbors at the schools, or church, or the grocery store, and without fail, this is the what I hear: "Oh, you're the family that bought the old farm house!  It is so nice to see a family living there!  We just love seeing bikes in the yard and kids running around and lights on at night!"  And I nod and smile and agree that we are just so happy to be here.  This is our eighth home in fifteen years, but our first time not living in a subdivision.  And while we've made friends everywhere we've lived, we have never felt so welcomed as we do here.  Even the fairies leave us sparkly gems on occasion!

The past six months haven't been the easiest, and we knew it wouldn't be.  Unlike other homes that we've whipped into shape in a matter of weeks, Jason and I knew this would be a huge undertaking. And I think because we don't intend on moving any time soon, I'm okay with this.  I've got big plans for this place, but I'm not in a hurry.  I'll work on projects for a few days, and then take time to explore outside with the kids. This is the first chance I've had to really do what I want in a home-not just what will be best for re-sale.  I want to live here and get a feel for things and see what I need and what I don't.  I don't want to make this place new and unrecognizable; I want to keep as much of it as original as possible while also suiting it to our needs.  Things move at a slower pace out here and I'm adjusting quite nicely.  Most days, I get up before the kids to just sit with my coffee and enjoy the quietness.  When the windows are open I can hear cows in the distance and roosters waking up.  I imagine it was quite the same when this place was built in the late 1800's.  And the things I thought I would miss, like a dishwasher and garbage disposal and city water? Well, it turns out those things aren't that important.

When we went in search of a new home for our family, we didn't really know what we were looking for.  But when we found what we needed, it seemed like maybe this place needed us, too.