Sheer red

We put our house on the market in October, just as headlines announced a national real estate slump.

A year earlier, the houses in our neighborhood were selling quickly, with prices continuing to edge upwards. Suddenly, that had changed.

The realtors with whom we talked tried to sound positive. We noticed how hard they tried. Attractive, well-kept, strategically located, the house did have “dated” wallpaper in bathrooms and dining room. We hired someone to texture those walls and paint them a neutral color.

One morning, I sat, mid-house, in my favorite overstuffed chair, looking at the half-textured dining room walls and asking God why we faced another move that seemed so ill-timed, real estate-wise. Ten years earlier, just before we moved from Indiana, three major companies there closed their local plants. Our Indiana house stayed on the market 14 months, finally selling for substantially less than we’d paid.

God did not answer my question. He sent me to Exodus 11. There, I found myself mid-story.

Repeatedly, the man Moses had visited Egypt’s Pharaoh, declaring, “The Lord says, ‘Let my people go.’” Repeatedly, Pharaoh refused. Repeatedly, plagues decimated Egypt.

In Exodus 11, Moses stood before Pharaoh for the last time. Foretelling the last worst plague, Moses announced, “All these officials of yours will come to me, bowing down before me and saying, ‘Go, you and all the people who follow you!’ After that I will leave.”

In essence, Moses said, “We’re going – on God’s timing and God’s terms.”

That morning, I began announcing the same thing. When our realtor’s reports became increasingly bleak, when our friends asked, “Any bites yet on your house?” I answered, “We’re going – on God’s timing and God’s terms.”

To attract buyers, we lowered the asking price and included significant incentives. After two-and-a-half months, we had no offer. Our realtor said, “All 31 of the comparable homes that I researched when you listed your house are still on the market.”

At 90 days, my husband’s company would make us a buy-out offer. It looked more and more like any offer – whether from a family or the company – would come in way below the already low asking price.

Meanwhile, eyeing the freshly painted dining room, I realized the valance that had hung over the large twin front windows would no longer work there, even temporarily. Our older daughter helped me locate some beautiful sheer, deep-red panels. We hung three panels on a golden rod, one panel draping the outer edge of each window and one hanging between them.

The next morning, sitting in the overstuffed chair, I remembered Exodus 12. In order to leave Egypt on God’s timing and terms, the people had to do a seemingly senseless thing: apply lamb’s blood to the sides and tops of their front doors.

I stared at the three blood-red strips draping our large front windows. Senseless? No. Stunningly symbolic.

House-hunting in the community where we were moving, we discovered a buyer’s market there, too. We bought a house, set a moving date. In Oklahoma City, the 90 days passed without a buyout offer. Due to a discrepancy between the appraisals, the buyout process ground indefinitely to a halt.

The packers packed. The movers loaded. The evening the moving van drove off with all our belongings, I stayed at the house to clean. My cell phone rang. “Deborah, good news!” my husband said. In short, the company’s offer matched what we would have gotten if someone had bought the house for the asking price.

And so we left – on God’s timing, God’s terms.

© 2008, Deborah P. Brunt. All rights reserved.