Over the past few months as Jim has continued his job search, there have been two strong possibilities that would have involved a very long commute. One job was in Longmont, 60 miles each way, and the other in Westminster, about 45 miles each way. Both jobs were temporary contracts with the possibility of permanent hires. So there was no way that we’d move for such a short term, but we’d never continue the situation of living such a distance from Jim’s job. We’ve always taken into account the length of the commute when we’ve bought houses–admittedly only two so far, but still! So when we first moved to the Washington DC area we said that Jim’s commute was not going to be his second job. We knew that we could get a much bigger and somewhat cheaper house by buying something “outside the Beltway,” but we just didn’t want that. So we bought a small ranch house that in theory was 15 minutes from Jim’s job at the Old Executive Office Building, right next door to the White House. He did end up leaving that project and taking something just over the border into Maryland, so if we had bought something way outside of town in Virginia we would have had to move.
When we moved to the Denver area in 2009 we applied the same philosophy: we had to live close to Jim’s job. That principle actually made house-hunting way simpler than it would have been had we had a larger area to choose from. As it was, we figured out what high school district with an International Baccalaureate program was the closest to that office and looked for houses only there. We ended up with something that (again, in theory) was 10-15 minutes from the office. I could easily go have lunch with Jim, and he could easily ride his bike to work periodically, mostly along the beautiful and bike-friendly Cherry Creek Trail. We’ve loved the house, have made what I think are cost-effective improvements, and used it well. The pictures above are some random shots I took this morning. The tiny pine tree is a very slow-growing variety that will be a charming little six-foot accent in another 5-10 years; the hanging basket is located on the lovely walkway going up to the entrance, and the white-flowered bush is a hydrangea that should develop into something pretty spectacular in a few seasons. (I’m particularly proud of that hydrangea, as I managed to get this replacement for the original when it died. I had carefully chosen the variety and bought it from a reputable firm. but it didn’t survive the winter. I can’t tell you how many mornings I went out this spring and peered at it, hoping to see some buds, but no such luck. The warmup followed by the cold snap must have done it in. However, I had saved the receipt. So the good folks at ForestFarm sent me a replacement, even letting me pick which plant I wanted from a picture of the ones they had in stock. And now, as you can see, it’s starting to bloom.)
So what does all this have to do with happiness? Just this: I would hate to have to leave this house. It’s been well-nigh perfect for us, even if it is a little big. I can still remember how I felt the day we came to look at it and I walked into the front door, and how many times I drove by it while we were waiting for the bank to make up its mind to sell it to us. But it’s just a thing. A house is just a thing. So if it comes to the point at which it no longer works for us, we need to sell it and move on. And that leads to the other point I want to make here: I don’t want to go to the other extreme and shrug, saying, ‘Oh well, no big deal.’ The tendency to let go quickly sometimes serves me well, but I have to watch out for being too detached, even from a house. After all, there are lots of good memories attached to it. I was thinking as I walked around the yard taking the pictures that I need to maintain a balance: not clutching, but not just abandoning. Somewhere in the middle: hold it lightly, appreciate it, savor the time you have with it, and then, if necessary, sell it for an enormous profit. (Oh, sorry. I’ve been reading too many Mr. Money Mustache blogposts lately.)
This idea of the balance, of not holding anything too tightly or too loosely, applies to relationships too. I was reminded of something in the book by Anne Ortlund that I wrote about in February, and I flipped through it until I found it on page 101: “If you have a husband, love him and obey him, but–easy does it. Live for eternity. Live for God. Don’t be possessed, don’t be entangled, until you’re only a wife, nothing more.” (Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 1977). Is your whole life bound up in your human relationships? Then it’s out of whack. I don’t claim any special standing in this category, believe me. As I’m writing this I’m thinking about how so much of my focus over the past six years since we moved to Denver has been on my son: Is he happy? Is he sad? Did we do the wrong thing for him in moving here? And of course last year the big question about him was: Is he going to get through his cancer? All perfectly legitimate concerns, of course. But once in awhile I’d realize, hey, maybe I should be putting him into a larger context, the context of God’s glory. Maybe it shouldn’t be possible for me to be made so miserable if I think he’s miserable. What’s my ultimate perspective here?
So keep it loose, even as you hold it close, whatever “it” may be.