Casa

This week, I did something that I haven’t done in years. To some degree, it surprised me that I even did what I did, given that I’ve spent the last few years being admittedly content.

I toured a new home in our neighborhood, kicking the tires to see if it would be a ‘better’ fit than the house I live in with Atlas. I’m not quite sure what inspired me to check out a different place, aside from curiosity.

When I walked inside of the property, I was absolutely blown away by the home. It was beautiful and seemed to have a lot of touches that our current home doesn’t have – most notably, high ceilings. Surrounded by a wooded lot, it had large windows that brought in beautiful views everywhere you looked.

The home was a masterpiece. However, it lacked a yard. It was also extremely secluded and lacked any visible contact with neighbors – something that I’ve learned to appreciate and value.

When I got back to my home, I took a good look at it and thought about all of the things I love about it; the yard, garage space, fenced-in backyard and neighbors with kids that Atlas loves to play with. While it doesn’t have high ceilings or an enormous bathroom in the master bedroom, it has character and charm that I’ve grown to love and appreciate.

After dwelling on these thoughts, I let the owner of the home know that it woudn’t be a good fit for me and Atlas. Rather than feel a sense of loss, I felt a wave of appreciation for the home we have and the contentment I feel when I’m here.

There are a lot of things I learned about this little exploration of mine; notably, that the grass (or lack therof) isn’t always greener on the other side, and there are a lot of instances in life where checking out new grass leads people to be discontent with what (or who) they have.

Looking at homes is a lot like starting a new relationship with somebody; when you walk through the hallways – or go on a first date – you imagine all of the memories and experiences you will share in the home, or with the person. It’s a slippery slope to fall down when you begin to live more in the fantasy of memories that haven’t materialized, than in the reality of the place you’re currently at, or person sitting across the table from you.

In the five years I’ve lived as a single Dad, I’ve truly wrestled with a lot of circumstances in my own life. Most notably, in the pursuit of a relationship and having a family with somebody else. In every instance, I’ve run headfirst into a wall that reminds me that starting something new will guarantee that I will miss out on half of Atlas’ life, and that’s a sacrifice I haven’t yet been able to stomach.

It has been hard – and by ‘hard’, I mean impossibly hard – to navigate these past few years; perpetually battling the desire to have a ‘together family’ with the reality that starting with somebody new will deprive me of half of Atlas’ life. However, I haven’t felt any more peace to move on with somebody new than I had to uproot myself from the home we live in now, and I have had to be obedient to God’s voice in this matter.

When I woke up this morning, I performed my usual crawl to the coffee machine and walked outside to read my Bible, journal and pray. Sitting outside, I looked around at all of the things I’ve grown to love about this home; tranquility, birds, squirrels, freshly-cut grass, a garage that’s got ample space for our toys and cars, a freshly-stained fence and outdoor workout area. I noticed the huge swing hanging from the tree that Atlas loves to swing on, yard where he plays with Rocky, our hermit crabs and leopard gecko. I looked to my right and saw the neighbor’s house where I frequently spend time during barbeques. With fresh eyes, I was (and am) thankful and content for what I have.

Love can’t thrive in a heart that is void of discontent, any more than a plant can grow in parched soil.