College Reunion

This morning I realized that back in December of last year I passed right over the 10 year mark of my graduation from the University of Oklahoma.  I loved that place and I loved majoring in Letters. I loved almost everything about OU - walking through its beautiful campus, my challenging coursework, the library, the professors - but what I loved most was finally finding a place that embraced my endless barrage of WHY?

It was never okay to relentlessly ask why. Teachers - and almost any authority figure growing up - didn't see it as curiosity; it was obstinance. I can't count how many times I was accused of being argumentative when often I just wanted to understand, to dig deeper.

But the Classics and Letters department loved it. And Dr. Rufus Fears especially. He taught my capstone course that last semester in the fall of 2004. He became my mentor in a way. I would stop by once a week or so with a long list of questions I had after his lectures. He would wrestle with all my questions, and always matched my energy and earnestness for knowing. Even when I stumped him with a question that challenged some of his core beliefs, he didn't retreat or attack like almost everyone else - he was intrigued.  He encouraged me to pursue the answer.  It was such a validating experience!

I ran into him again several years later in 2009, after I'd married, started a family and moved to OKC. I was a stay at home mom with two little ones, but went out one night by myself to browse through Full Circle Bookstore.  And I heard Dr. Fears' voice booming from across the store. He was holding a Great Books lecture series for senior citizens. I snuck in and talked with him afterward and he invited me to come back each week to listen to the series.  It was so much fun.  I hadn't been in that mode for years and years. I was stuck changing diapers, cooking meals and staring at piles of laundry.  I missed college so much.

At the end of the last lecture, he sat down and talked with me for about 15 minutes - none of it about academics or abstract concepts. He wanted to talk about my family.  My life now.  He wanted to convince me (probably looking tired and adrift) how what I was doing now - as difficult, boring and tedious as it was - is so much more important than the work I did before, or even the work he was doing now.  He said that Freedom (because I'm sure he always thought of it with a capital F) was grown in our homes.  That raising and loving our children with love and truth and goodness and beauty was what would save our culture. That loving our children was alone the most lofty and noble accomplishment for a human being.

And that too, was such a validating experience.  I will always be grateful for Dr. Fears and the entire time I spent at OU.

Jason's Deli Three Bean Salad - Inspired Recipe

Today at church, we celebrated Palm Sunday with a fried fish feast.  (Yep. In the Orthodox Church of America calendar, our Paschal/Easter services change each year; this year we are one week behind the Western calendar.)

I brought a three bean salad inspired by Jason's Deli.  It's completely Lenten (for oil days), and I wanted to type this up before I forget what I did.  :)

1 can dark red kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 can garbanzo beans/chick peas, drained and rinsed
1 small bag (~1 lb) frozen lima beans
1 red bell pepper, chopped to size of beans
1 yellow bell pepper, chopped to size of beans
1 stalk celery, chopped to size of beans
1 small red onion, chopped
1 cup cilantro, stems removed and roughly chopped
~1 cup Italian dressing homemade or store bought

Italian Dressing:
1/2 - 2/3 cup olive oil
1/4 - 1/3 cup red wine vinegar
1 1/2 - 2 tsp salt
1 generous pinch each dried basil, dried oregano, dried Italian seasonings (ground slightly between fingers)
Pinch ground cayenne pepper
1 tsp each garlic powder, onion powder
1 tsp sugar

Mix all.  If you can, let it marinate overnight, stirring/shaking occasionally.

My Love Avocados

Today I'm fascinated with Fiddle Leaf Figs.

Wherever we’ve lived, I’ve always thought that my house needed more things on the walls and more live plants. But it doesn’t happen.  I'm usually indecisive about my style and struggle with settling on something (anything!).  And although I buy houseplants, I inevitably kill each one of them.

Just after Aaron and I married, I had a "love avocado" seed that I wanted to sprout. I was going to grow it into a beautiful indoor houseplant and was ridiculously sentimental about it. After a year of that, and several failed attempts along with a few "love avocado" replacements, I gave up. Aaron might not know this, but I was a little disturbed by the experience and I'm grateful that it didn't turn out to be a metaphor.

But I worry about that.  I do get bored easily. I have difficulty even seeing the external world and staying in touch with that reality.  I don't intrinsically feel compelled to take care of

anything or anyone, and I'm afraid I'll give up or will fail my family.  That's usually how my story goes.

It's grueling for me to wrench myself out of my inner world and come to the surface. And when I do, I realize that, Ohh, now I see that you have no clean clothes to wear, and you need that form signed, and there are no dinner plans and you have no idea what is happening next...And of course, you need to know someone will faithfully care for you and not just care about you.

We are having a conversation on Facebook about personality profiling, and I heard another story of a woman who shifted into a different category once she became a mother.  I'm sure there are so many reasons for that, and it happened to me as well.  I think that marriage and motherhood awakened my weak F (Feeling) and hibernating J (Judging) traits that can put me in touch with people and give me clarity and resolve to take action on their behalf.

Love does that, and I hope it does that more for me.  I don't mind being subpar in those areas, because it allows me to thrive in the other complementary sphere of abstract thought and conceptualization, which is who I am.  But I love my family. And that means I need to move.  I am trying to dig deeper into my J- and F-ness.  I want to find a balance (which is the goal of being human, I think) that will reassure my family that I am committed to them, even if the execution is comically poor.  

Lay Down Your Weapons

Last night I listened to Aaron read a chapter from "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe" to the kids at bedtime, and I was struck when he read: "Lucy and Susan held their breaths waiting for Aslan’s roar and his spring upon his enemies. But it never came."

I used to muse on the humility of Christ in letting all those terrible things happen to him for our sake.  But now it feels tied to me, to all the interactions I have each day with others.

Back in 2009, I heard a phrase in a short video by Dan Allender on the topic of learning to fight well in marriage.  Right off the bat, the most interesting bit is that he didn't call us not to fight.  You have to fight to go deeper into relationship.  You have to lean into conflict, but you do that by laying down your weapons.  That's the phrase that feels seared into my brain and pops up when I'm tempted to bulldoze others: "lay down your weapons".

That was probably the beginning of my bent toward pacifism.  I began to wonder, how could we Americans justify imperialism and wars and force-feeding "democracy" around the world?  Love doesn't force itself. Ever.

Then I started facing the reality that when I fought with people - when I disagreed or was confronted - I always armed myself. I would prepare to do battle with what I had available: words, logic, rhetoric, quick-thinking and knowledge.  Other people have wit, sarcasm, physical strength, guilt manipulation, withdrawal of affection, anger.

The object was to win, not to love.  My priest says that in "every interaction your objective is to love the other person".  I've learned that hardly ever means enlightening them by force of an argument. The forcing of ourselves upon others is not love, it is conquering.  And it serves only ourselves and our ego; it numbs our pain, it displaces our anger and momentarily quiets our fears.

So I'm trying to be an intellectual pacifist when I feel my heart snarl or gasp at something someone has done to me, or has said that stings.  I want to be like Aslan, and save my roar for the protection of others, not myself.  The great deception happens when I believe I'm protecting others when really I'm doing battle for my own self.  When my ego cannot handle being spoken to in a condescending tone, or when someone has been harsh with their response, or refused to engage with me on any sensible level.

This doesn't mean I do not have boundaries, and it doesn't mean I will not protect others.  But I believe that weapons should only be used as a last resort for the sake of loving others.  What is that fine line of protecting others with some necessary "casualties", and losing the good attempted due to a lack of concern for the harm of others caught in the line of fire?

I don't know. Lord have mercy on me, a sinner, and grant me wisdom to learn this.

Thankfulness is a Fickle Fairy

Some days I'm driving down the road, and glancing at the people next to me, shudder to think of stepping into their lives. Some days they look so sad, exhausted by life.  As if they dread their destination or maybe are grieving because of where they're coming from.  Some days they look like drones or sheep, going along mindlessly, asleep in their wakefulness.

Other times I look over and think that we all have good times and we all experience sorrow, but that our own joys are the sweetest.  I wonder if this is me on my healthiest, balanced days?  I see some of their sorrow, some of their weariness, but I catch more of their smiles, or their heads bobbing to the music.  I see them chattering on the phone or with the kids, like busy ants, content to be buzzing along, building their lives and finding pleasure as they go. On these days, I don't pity them, but I don't envy them either.  I see them as the perfect part in this universe that somehow adds up to a whole working harmony.

But then there are days, like today, when I am driving down the road and see the car next to me, and wish with all my heart that I could switch places with them. Some days all I see is an empty backseat that mocks me with its quiet.  My backseat is full of three humans who are all fighting for their place, for my attention and energy and time, and have decided that using their loudest, most annoying voice is the way to get it.

Some days, like today, every other driver I get a good look at is a woman with perfectly styled hair, perfectly applied make-up, stylish, quality clothes and well-chosen accessories - all wrapped up in a shiny, new car.  A woman I envy. While I, with my staticky, disheveled hair and pudgy, shiny face am awkwardly making my way in this dirty mini-van.  

I don't even care about keeping up with the Jones' most of the time.  But today I do.

Three minutes later, though, Michael Jackson comes on the radio; the clouds lift and we're smiling and dancing in our seats.  I feel so grateful for these people to be silly with, to be free with and to belong to. They're my people and it's just us, a small part of our little community of friends and family, all perfectly placed in the world.

How We Sold our House in a Week - Part 3 (Comps and their Condition)

If you read the first and second posts from the "how we sold our house in a week" series, you know that I didn't finish.  Let's take a stab at that, shall we?

In the second post, I spoke about pricing.  When deciding how much to ask for your house, you should look at comparable homes  that have recently sold (not houses that are currently for sale).  These comparable homes, or "comps", should be similar in size and condition to yours.

However, if you're not a realtor, you might not be able to see pictures or descriptions of the condition of many sold properties in your area.  Zillow and your county assessor might only provide the size of the house, the date it sold and for how much.

If you don't have enough comps whose condition is already known, you can make an assumption about the comparable houses' condition based on the price per square foot.  Here's how to do it.

Make your list and check it twice

Make a list of properties that sold within about a mile of your house within the last 6 months.  You should have at least 10.  If not, expand your search by time or by distance (but don't cross any major streets that drastically change property value).

In your list, have the following headings:
Address   Bed/Bath  SquareFootage  Date Sold  Amount Sold Price/Sqft

Jot down all the relevant information and then calculate the price per square foot: Amount Sold/Square Footage = Price Per Square Foot.  So a house that sold for $60,000 with 1700 sqft sold for about $35/sqft.

Now look at your list.  The prices per square probably fall into about three categories: really low, middle range and high.  Depending on your neighborhood, how many houses fall into each category can change, but there will still generally always be three categories.

For the example I'm going to use, let's assume a neighborhood where the average house is a 3 or 4 bed, 2 bath with 1800 square feet and sells for about $130,000,  and the prices per square foot range from $50-80/ft.  Like this one I found on Zillow:

Know thyself

The three sets of numbers correspond to one of these three categories:
1) Cheap - Fixer Upper
2) Average - Decent and Clean
3) High-Priced - Remodeled and Wow

Cheap Houses: The houses with a low price per square foot are the cheap fixer uppers.  In our example neighborhood these would be $50-60/ft.   They're cheap because they usually needs tons of work, and were a foreclosure or an investor bought it to flip or rent.  These houses probably need a full remodel (we're talking orange countertops and dark brown paneling) and might even have structural or mechanical problems (like foundation problems, or needs a new roof or A/C).

Average Houses: These houses are decent and neat on the inside, with the condition ranging from some updates to a lot of modern updates.  They're clean, but not completely updated.  It might need new tile in the bathrooms, or still have that old wood paneling in a living room, but in general, you do feel as though this place has been maintained, has some modern touches and is move-in ready.  The majority of houses in your neighborhood will be like this.

High-Priced Houses: This is the house whose price shocks you as much as the amazing remodeled condition.  In our example, it's priced at $80/ft. There will only be a few of these.  It was probably completely remodeled (likely by the investor who bought it for $60,000 six months ago).  It could also be a homeowner whose upgrades were "too nice" for the neighborhood but wants to get his money back, or maybe even a homeowner who arbitrarily decides his house is worth it, and some poor buyer paid too much.

Hopefully not all of your comps are lacking a description or pics.  Using the price per square foot method to guess condition is obviously not as reliable as seeing pictures and reading realtors' descriptions.  

But go ahead and take a look at sold comps that you DO have pics and descriptions for, and already know the condition: does its price/sqft line up with the ranges you see in your list?   It almost always does.  Pretty nifty.

Next up: Make it look stunning.

Devil's Snare

I went to church by myself yesterday.  The kids have had chicken pox for over a week, and Aaron and I talked about it and decided my sanity was more at stake than his, so off I went.  I was numb from the week and felt myself slowly thawing as I drove the 25 minutes it takes to get there.

I came to think about Devil's Snare.  I tend to relate to simple yet meaningful metaphors, and my emotional journey fits neatly into this one.

A few days before the kids came down with chicken pox, we went down to Dallas to visit our counselor.  It'd been six months since I had seen this man who has come to be a spiritual father to me.

I confessed how much hatred I have been feeling toward God while I have also strangely come to believe in the goodness of God and in His real love for me.  I felt confused that I would resent God for my past sufferings, even though I no longer see Him as a God who punishes or who is far off.

There's an...unsticking taking place in me as I wrestle with these honest but difficult feelings.  The more honest I am, the more I feel as though I am facing a choice.  And it's a choice I really don't want to make.  I'm still trying to figure out how to articulate what the choice is, because it mostly exists in my mind as images, but it's the choice to put my guard down and choose to love, even though I feel there is not enough love or Life in me to give away.

Since I feel that I have such a limited amount of Life in me, I often demand that others take care of me.  I resent my dear children for their need of me.  I cringe when they touch me, because I'm afraid they will take all of me and nothing will be left.

My counselor listened, as he always does; but this time he also gave advice and earnestly encouraged me - which has not really happened until now.  He told me that "trusting God looks like holding your children".  I knew what he meant: I could either brace myself when they touch and give as little as I have to when they need me; or I could soften to them, relax my arms around them, and give them what I have.

Of course, two days later they came down with chicken pox and I was faced with a week alone with them and their innocent neediness.  I'm trying to choose to sit with them and love them.  But it's painful.  I cry when I give myself, since I'm still scared it's not true that I will be okay.

And then I thought of Devil's Snare.  When you become entrapped in this plant, if you struggle it only tightens its grip.  It will get tighter and tighter until it squeezes you to death.  You only survive if you can manage to stop fighting and relax.  Then it releases you.

So there's the paradox of Devil's Snare, and I believe, of love as well.   In stories and wise sayings, they say the truth about love is that you find love when you are willing to give it away.  That if you choose to feel death, you will experience Life.

The beautiful part of J.K. Rowling's imagery here is that apparently, when the plant releases its victims, it only does so because it believes them to be dead.  It believes it is victorious.  Death always thinks it has you when you choose to surrender to it; but the person who chooses death becomes the victor.

I think that is the Gospel, and it's very difficult for me to believe.  But I am trying.

Discipline in Love

I have a constant inner struggle when I look at my children.  I'm conflicted about so many things as a mother who still hasn't grown up in her heart.  But discipline especially confuses me.  I don't have a strong inner voice, and as Charlotte Mason has said, reason should not solely be relied upon because humans have the uncanny ability to make anything sound reasonable.

I can see in the evolution of my views on discipline and sleep-training a thread that runs through them both - really above and below and around them all. 

I've come to realize that the god I have believed in, and am trying to rid myself of, is more of a Zeus-like god than the God of my Fathers.  I'm terrified of him, because he is far-off, easily offended, and quick to put me in my place.  He is concerned only with my good behavior and honor of him, but not very much at all with my well-being or feelings.  I've learned through life to keep in step, try to stay under the radar, and hope and pray to him to please give me a bit of happiness.

The expectations I had of my children reflected this.  It was a kind friend who finally pointed out the hopelessness of that set-up.  "It seems like you're treating Joseph the way you think God treats you", she said.  And that changed a lot for me.

I've watched as the way I treat my children reflects like a mirror image what I am believing about God.  Is He on my side?  Does He love me if I cannot stop sinning?  Will He help me?  Is He demanding something from me I feel helpless to overcome?  Will He lash out at me or show me mercy?  I ask these questions when I pray to God; and my children ask these questions when they look at me.

Over time, all other parenting goals have faded, and what's left is the singular goal of treating my children the way I hope that Jesus treats me.  I try to believe each day that He does.  Some days I can only believe for the sake of my kids.  They are scared and alone when I am sitting on my throne, waiting to nag them or punish them for spiting me.  They are free and honest and ready to love me when I am safe, constant and forgiving.  I want God to be that for me, and I believe Jesus shows me that He is; and I want to be that for my children.

So these two conflicting instincts well up inside me when Joseph hits Emma, or Emma screams at Joseph, or no one comes to the table when I call.  Do I dole out quick justice or show merciful kindness?  I feel angry and bitter when they are not obedient, but yet feel so scared for them to feel unloved, because of my own history.

I'm hoping to find that tertium quid: boundaries enforced lovingly.  I stumble upon it sometimes and it's beautiful.  I find peace in my home and they get unconditional love.  Sometimes it's not so wonderful and I end up letting them get away with treating me or each other the wrong way because I don't want them to feel "unloved" (not good); or I'm harsh and demanding, with no kindness in my heart or voice (worse, perhaps).

So many thoughts flit through my mind in the middle of a conflict, and I think I've come up with this criteria: all discipline should be carried out in a way that still convinces my children that I love them and am on their side.

I think that is mostly reflected in how I discipline and not in what I do, exactly.  Joseph gets very angry when I tell him he can't play with his Legos anymore.  But he knows that I'm not doing it out of anger because: 1) he knew it was coming (I told him my expectations and future consequences), 2) I spoke kindly and 3) I expressed sadness that he didn't get to play longer with his Legos and hoped he would make a better choice next time. 

Usually, if I'm able to be sincere, he can tell.  If I'm actually sort of celebrating at getting to make him suffer a little, at getting to revenge him for making my life harder that day, well, he sniffs that out quickly and my "kindness" becomes patronizing condescension.  And we all hate that.

Someone told me before that disciplining our children is much less about method than about the posture of our heart, and I've come to think that is more true than I ever thought.  And I'm on my way to believing the same thing about prayer.

Safe People

I was going to write this status on Facebook: "I know it's not fair, but sometimes if someone is too honest or rude or testy with you it means you are the safest person they know and they're being vulnerable."

But really, I know better.  So I didn't.

There's so much to unpack in that.

For starters, that's only sometimes.  Other times it means they're a predator and will take all the life out of your soul and will disregard every boundary you feebly try to enforce.  Still other times they're jerks or immature or just having a bad day. 

How do you know the difference?  I would say that it's in the context of a history with that person.  At the very least, it would require conversation.  My counselor says that there are two things happening in a conversation: what someone says, and what they mean.  We have to work with what they say, but strive to figure out what they mean.  And it's awfully difficult to do that without having known them.

But I was mostly thinking of those people we already know and are in relationship with.

I'm remodeling a house, and I'm angry at my contractors right now.  Of course it's frustrating when anyone doesn't do what they say they will do, but my anger runs deeper.  Anger is a secondary emotion, so what is the primary one I'm feeling?  I'm pretty sure it's fear. 

I'm feeling something that most nearly could be called PTSD; being around working-class men with low notions of females and little respect or regard for femininity.  I feel afraid, abused, humiliated and disregarded, and therefore furious at them.  My reaction is almost certainly more extreme than their actual behavior, but that's how a trigger works with PTSD.

So going back to vulnerability.  I'm feeling all these scary, overwhelming feelings this week and who do I get testy with?  You guessed it.  NOT the contractors.  I get testy with my husband, and irritable with my children.  They're all safe, or as safe as I've got. 

I see this with my children too.  Most of the time, their anger is about wanting their needs met and can't be reduced to their naughtiness or "sinfulness".  They want to to be loved, known, seen, heard - all basic needs the human heart longs for.  When those needs feel threatened (which is really all the time for any human, only children are more demanding and less mature - maybe because of their weak position), they react strongly to get those needs met. 

My husband and I have wondered at the fact that our children behave so well for others and less so for ourselves.  We see now that they are really more afraid of others than they are of us. They're not sure that they will still be loved if they misbehave.  So they behave better for them.  (I'm generalizing here, but I think the principle is there.)

Most of the time, when someone comes to us, demanding we meet their needs or indulge their requests, we naturally balk.  I do.  I really hate that my children need me so much.  Why is that?  I tend to think that it's for the very same reason the other party is being demanding or testy: we want our needs met.  We're afraid they won't be met.  What about ME?

It's come to be a real act of faith for me to give up my resources for someone else.  I have to somehow trust that the Life I give up will come back to me.  That it won't run out, and I won't be utterly forgotten.  I'm afraid much of the time, so I hoard what I have (my time, money, attention, pleasures) so that I know I won't go without. 

I want to learn that just like so many things in this universe, what makes sense doesn't really work, and what sounds paradoxical is the truth.  I'm not happy when I'm hoarding: when I'm clingy and needy and angry about my children wanting something.  I'm never happy when I refuse to meet their needs.

But if somehow I'm able to give up those things, if I listen to my husband when he's angry instead of defending myself, or if I walk away from the computer when my child wants my attention, or give my money when I'd rather not - I find myself full of love and life, which is exactly what I was wanting all along. 

I really wish I could remember that feeling every moment of every day.  It should be easier than this, to learn to trust that God will love me and take care of me, considering that He has promised and we have Jesus as proof of that promise.  But it's very hard for me.

Surrender

In yoga class today I almost had another panic attack.  It may not have been as close as I think, but I felt my throat close, my thoughts become disoriented, and a flush of heat rush over my body.  Tears streaked down the side of my face as I lay on my mat, trying to "receive the stretch". 

I cannot stop thinking of surrender, and how it seems to be the only tool I have found that will give me peace, but only in the context of trust.  I think of yoga, homebirthing, parenting, friendships, the person of Christ, the Church, my future, my childhood and my relationship with my husband. 

The voice at the front of the studio says that even though our muscles shake, or our hamstrings burn, we shouldn't pull or contract; we release, we give in, we breathe into our pain and discomfort, leaning fully into it. 

My hypnobirthing instructor told me the same thing.  She refuses to call it a contraction - it is a surge or wave, and you receive it, not brace for it.  She goes over and over the fear-tension-pain cycle that happens with our muscles - and apparently our souls.  Fear is the root source of all pain, she says.  Trust that your body is made to birth this child, relax every one of your muscles and pain disappears. 

She's actually closer to right that anyone would think, as I experienced it.  Visualizing a rose opening slowly and beautifully, and whispering a calm prayer for God's grace to give me a "safe, smooth and manageable" birth, I somehow breathed slowly through each and every contraction until safely delivering my babies.

My counselor tells me to "lean into" my sufferings.  He actually tells me to drown in them.  Pain or fear or hunger or longing or sadness (oh God, sadness can be so overwhelming) all instinctively and almost immediately bring about in me the emotional position of a taut, tense body bracing and pushing against a force.  "I will not let it overcome me", I want to say. 

Being overcome is terrifying, and I wish I could explain why.  Am I afraid I'll cease to exist?  Am I afraid I'll pass out from the trembling pain of my abs holding a pose too long?  Do I think the pain will kill me if I give into the contractions instead of fighting them?  Do I imagine I will never be happy again if I don't insist upon being loved, rather than sitting with loneliness?

Well, I suppose I do, but the very opposite of my fears happen when I give in, or lean into, or receive the pain and discomfort that scares me.  A stretch becomes deeper and even pleasant; a contraction becomes productive and empowering; loneliness and pain become companions instead of enemies. 

The mystery of the cross seems to me more about the mystery of death swallowing death.  We imagine that life and light will fight darkness and death, and I see how that's true in the end.  But Christ came in such an unexpected way, without offering us anything but Himself and His death.  His quiet, solemn, sad surrender to death is what brought life to us.  Love is hidden in death? 

The small bits of love I manage to give to my family do come from death, and the more death to myself that is involved, the sweeter the love.  I grew up hearing the verses (over and over and over) in church that we should "die to ourselves".  Yet now I wonder if that act is much less a killing of self, than a brave, trusting surrender to the unknown, sometimes hidden person of Christ who offered - is offering - Himself to me.

How We Sold Our House in a Week - Part 2 (Pricing)

As we made our plans to sell the house, we ended up with two priorities: price the house right and make it look as stunning as possible.  I'll break that down and talk about pricing first.

I didn't depend on my realtor alone to price my home correctly.  I wanted to make sure the price was consistent with our strategy, so I did it myself.  I considered the money we were going to pay him as a marketing fee, since he would make sure the listing was put on the MLS and posted elsewhere, and would also do all the showings for us.

When deciding on the list price, we based it on the prices of sold properties close to our home that were very similar to our own, in size and condition.

I Used Sold Prices to Decrease Our Days On Market (DOM)

I knew I couldn't just look at homes that were for sale in my neighborhood and pick a similar price.  That doesn't tell me what the houses are worth - it tells me what homeowners are asking for.  The difference between what a seller is asking and what a buyer will pay usually correlates to how many days it will sit on the market. 


Looking at homes that have sold will tell you exactly what the market says the house is worth, and will cut down your days on market significantly.  You usually won't need to drop your price to compete with the market - you'll come out of the gates priced that way already.

Zillow.com is a great  free tool, and you could use that almost exclusively.  You can enter your home address and on the side bar can choose to look at similar homes for sale, or similar homes sold.  Look at homes SOLD.  We also used our county assessor's website, which happens to be one of the best in the country.

Finding Comparable Homes in Size & Condition

So I used Zillow, and found several properties in my neighborhood (within about a square mile) that had sold in the last year (more recent is more accurate).  I only looked at houses that were similar to mine in size: number of bedrooms, bathrooms, garage and square footage.

Next, I looked at the condition of the homes on my list.  This is the trickiest to do, but also the most important.  Whether a house is old and ugly or modern and new makes a huge impact on the price, and therefore on the price of your house.  You want to price your house based on houses that were basically in the same condition as yours.

To find our comparables ("comps"), we picked the houses with conditions most like our own home.  Our home was remodeled, almost completely redone.  There were more than a few updates, but most of our updates were average and not high-end.  So I looked for houses that looked/sounded about like that. I looked at pictures and read descriptions that are part of each house's profile on Zillow.

Breaking it Down to Price Per Square Foot

Now we had our comps: houses recently sold, in our neighborhood, about the same size and in about the same condition as ours.  Next I figured out the price per square foot that each one sold for.  I took the sales price (e.g. $100,000), divided by the square footage (e.g. 1900 sqft), and got the answer (e.g. $52/sqft).  I did this for each house that we were using in our comps, and then came up with one average price per sq foot.  In our case, most homes that were about 3/2/2 and 1900 sqft and nearly completely remodeled with some new larger items (like roof and A/C) sold for about $76/sqft.

But we were conservative: we priced at $74/sqft.  We made sure that our price was about $5000 lower than any other home similar to ours that recently sold. I think this was the key to our pricing: make it just a little bit lower than other homes.

That's as accurate as we could manage, and it worked out well (when we discussed it with our realtor, he thought it was a good number, too).  Pricing it $5000 less than similar homes were selling for meant that it was a real deal, and we had a full price offer after one showing.  Even though we could have waited 3-6 months and gotten more, it would have been about even, since every month we had to pay our mortgage, insurance, taxes, utilities, etc.  Not to mention all the time lost, waiting and having to keep the house immaculate.  We were so grateful that everything came together, and that our part in it all seemed to have worked.

I'll talk about what we did to get the house ready (and "look as stunning as possible" - our second priority), in the next post.

Cabinet Makeover - What Color?

Yesterday I bought this cabinet for $20 off of Craigslist.  I was looking for a cabinet that could double as a bench, but also allow for storage.  I wanted to put it against a wall in our new kitchen.

It looked pretty good in the picture, but it was kind of dirty and the finish turned out to be white (that was yellowing) laminate.

I got it home and took off all the laminate.  It took a couple of hours, the use of a hairdryer and the help of my husband.  But I was so grateful to find that it was made (in someone's shop, most likely) with good quality hardwood plywood.  There's a grain in the wood that shows through.

So what color should I paint it?  I was imagining putting on some short feet on the bottom, painting the whole thing, and adding new handles.  My default is always safe, so I was thinking white.  But I would like something a bit more fun, but also a bold color that won't show if it gets a bit dirty.

Here's a picture of the kitchen I'll be putting it in.  It'll go against that long wall there, but will have to share it with a small, child-sized pine armoire.  I also think I'll run two, white 4 ft floating shelves above the armoire and bench.

A dark vintage blue cabinet

 

A brighter blue, somewhere between baby blue and turquoise

A very bright Kelly Green cabinet

Ah, and here is the 47" tall pine armoire going in the kitchen, on the same wall.













Do you have a vote?  Or a different idea?

How We Sold Our House in a Week - Part 1

When you're a stay-at-home mom, your life might sometimes be lacking that feeling of a job well done.  By that I mean the job never ends (cleaning up toys, washing clothes, wiping spills, making food); but also that you usually won't see the real fruit of your labor for decades - not weeks, months or even years. 

This can be difficult, especially if you happen to be the type of creature, like me, who is doing all these things without much enjoyment of the tasks, but mostly out of a committed love for your children and husband.  That being the case, it's a wonderful thing when a stay-at-home mom like myself finds something else - an activity, skill, hobby, business - she happens to be good at, enjoys, and can actually stamp FINISHED! 

This is what I discovered when my husband and I decided to sell our house last year.  I found that I was good at doing that sort of thing, and loved (mostly) every minute of it.  We ended up selling our house in a week, even in a tough market, with a full-price offer.  I thought I'd share how we did that.

The very first thing I did was research like the dickens.

I've always liked the shows about anything real estate-related: flipping, renovating, finding, selling, landscaping, redecorating - doesn't matter, I love them.  So I already had some general knowledge (or at least familiarity) with some of what we needed to know.  I've also been involved in real estate investing since 2009, so that helped too.

But all that really wasn't enough to be informed.  I'm a big fan of the phrase "informed consent", and pretty much take it to heart in everything I do.  I want to know all about what I am doing and why, and take responsibility for the outcome.  This is a not-so-great philosophy in some areas, but works out really well when selling your house.  After getting my bearings with a humble "what to know when selling your house" Google search, here's what I eventually did to prepare:


Watched lots of episodes of Get It Sold, featuring Sabrina Soto. I liked the show, and appreciated the emphasis on real current market value for pricing, and the practical tips on staging it gave you.  Their formula seemed to work to get the homes sold (and jived with what I knew from investing), so we basically used this approach to selling our home: price it right, and make it look as close to perfect as we can.

Looked at tons of home staging principles, tips and pictures.  They're everywhere on the internet, and I gobbled them up, especially noting features and problems that were also in my house.  Take note of the tips you see most common (like de-cluttering, cleaning, etc.) and know that those are your priority.

Only used a realtor we found by way of referral from someone we personally know.  The realtor we used when we bought our house was also a friend, and the previous property manager of a house we rented.  He referred us to our selling realtor - they were acquaintances and both former Marines. 

Made sure the realtor posts high-quality pictures in their listings.  Something like 80% of home buyers look on the internet first.  They won't want to look at your home in person if the pictures they see are fuzzy, dark, have awkward angles, don't show full rooms, etc.  Your realtor should have a high-quality camera or hire a photographer - a regular ol' digital camera won't cut it.  We looked at our realtor's current listings and saw beautiful, inviting pictures with great lighting that highlighted all the best aspects of the house.  Here's a great blog of ugly house photos: how NOT to do it!

Next, I'll post about how we priced our house, and what we had to do to get it ready to sell.

Reality Checks

Then everything started coming up.  In that state of silence, there was room now for everything hateful, everything fearful, to run across my empty mind.  I felt like a junkie in detox, convulsing with the poison of what emerged.  I cried a lot.  I prayed a lot.  It was difficult and it was terrifying, but this much I knew - I never didn't want to be there, and I never wished that anyone were there with me.  I knew that I needed to do this and that I needed to do it alone.

This is like Advanced Counseling for Patients.  It's what happens after you start to unravel yourself a bit and understand that stillness and solitude must come and reveal the rest.  It's the entering into pain, after finally having someone introduce you to it, and tell you its name.

I don't talk much about what it's been like for me to go to counseling the last two years.  For many people, it's simply too embarrassing (or possibly shameful) to hear.  I'm also not entirely convinced it's useful to explain the complexities, depth and sheer intensity of emotions, memories, connections and insights; they're mine, after all. 

But I do wonder at what it is exactly that draws some of us into this particular stage of growth: why do we willingly enter into this suffering and pain and hellish torment of the soul, despite having descriptions like the ones above, to warn us?  What prompted me?

Well, it helps that I didn't understand exactly what I'd be getting into until it was too late to back out.  I came to Bruce, our counselor, because our marriage had finally come to an impasse: I wasn't moving and neither was he.  Thankfully (by God's merciful grace), this was simply too painful for either of us to bear. 

But what actually drew me into the Mystery that she describes above - that strange, voluntary hell as we go through the process of looking at ourselves, at Reality - was a promise I read in a book, given to a woman who was just like me, standing at her own crossroads and faced with a choice to walk down the path or not: "you will have a better life than you could ever imagine".

Well, it sounded like another promise that Jesus gave, about life and, really, abundant life.  Obviously: yes, please.  So down I went into the rabbit hole.  And this woman (who I will reluctantly admit is Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat Pray Love) describes it well in the quote above.

I'm becoming a Reformed Mystic, I suppose, and marveling at all the mysteries in this world, and also at the funny joke God plays on us by giving us hints of the divine but also giving us bread, and wine and pudding and roller coasters and beaches.  The Incarnate and the Transcendent, together.

2011 Wrap Up

This post is also found on my investing blog, Flipping Oklahoma, so it may be a duplicate if you read both!

The best thing that happened to us this year happens to be named Madelyn Ruth Payne, born on February 12. It was a complicated, intense and scary birth but that was the worst of it. She cooed, she slept, she smiled and we all adjusted much better than my fears and plans allowed.
Praise God!

She is 10 months old now and I have decided I was right, after all, in giving myself an entire year for an adjustment period. Not the standard 6 weeks or even 6 months. I gave myself 12 months before I would think of losing weight, of making plans, pursuing adventures, or have the house running smoothly. This is surely not necessary for everyone, but for me? with my third child? Yes, it was, and the grace has been life-giving.
Without even realizing what was happening, in the last eight weeks or so I found myself wanting to organize the laundry and meals and what-nots in the house, and talking to Aaron more often about our debt and goals and dreams and brainstorming ways to move forward. Just like that, my time of adjustment has ended all by itself, gradually and organically, without judgmental pressure or condemning “should haves”.

At the beginning of November, I was chatting with a friend of my husband’s family and discovered he and his partner overwhelmed with their real estate ventures. They had leads coming in but not enough time or a good enough plan or system to follow-up. I asked him if he’d ever considered having someone come in to help him coordinate his deals, to take over the tedious process of follow-ups, negotiations, comps, contracts and closings. They had, and in fact were looking for someone!

I emailed my friend, Shae, a veteran investor, asking if she thought there was an opportunity to partner up with or offer a sort of transaction coordination service to busy investors. She did!

Then, around Thanksgiving, I paid an outrageously cheap price to try my friend Shae’s Financial Freedom GPS. Aaron and I have read books and articles like it before, and are familiar with many of the principles in it. But we needed a new starting point, and boy did we find it. Although we were familiar with most of the budgeting concepts, Shae’s approach to getting out of debt and pursuing financial freedom were the first of their kind, as far as I know. The entire e-book has been intriguing, innovating and inspiring. Just the ticket!

We have a good plan, with aggressive and smart ways to earn quick cash to pay off debt and start focusing on the next stage of our plan: develop that passive income!

I’m hoping it works out to partner with these two investors, but if not, I already have a marketing plan to find other investors to work with in the area. We’ll see how quickly this can work, and where all the cards fall in the next few weeks.

Here’s to 2012!

Mama, Growing Up

I was pushing Maddi through Target the other day and a series of thoughts popped into my head as I realized that, by the time the third child comes...well, you've learned a thing or two. Maybe, like me, you might not realize it at first, but here are some examples for you:

-Don't dig yourself an early grave by saying "uh oh!" every time your baby drops something. You now know you will regret this later if you do, when that baby discovers her most favorite game.

-A baby toothbrush, or carrot or celery stick, is a better teether than anything you can buy labeled "Teether".

-Just let them slobber on anything and yes, pick it up and give it back to them.

As you push this third baby through the store, you might just find yourself wondering at it all. How did you make it this far? How did you finally learn to relax enough to really soak in some knowledge and even a bit of wisdom?

You think about the suffering you've gone through. With a pang of guilt, as images of third world countries flit across your mind, you think of your own long nights, nonstop crying, shrill screams, needs so numerous you couldn't possibly meet them all at once, and you realize that suffering is relative and of course, you've suffered. Quite a bit, actually.

You've learned what a failure you are, and realized that in the middle of that failure is the grace that you were working so hard to achieve in conquering motherhood. Your oldest child isn't accomplishing the academic goals you set out for, but he has seen your tears as you apologize, and you now feel that little eternal lesson is more signifiant than whether he can read yet.

You are able to forgive yourself - even if only a moment here, or a moment there - for being confused about yourself and your life, for even hating it sometimes. You realize most people are really like you, after all, and struggle to stay put in their mind.

And just like that, bit by painfully slow bit, you change. And wake up one day realizing that you have something to share, and the bulk of it isn't advice.

Autumn Veggie & Rice Soup On the Fly

Unlike my great friend, Kelly Rose, I am not comfortable cooking intuitively, or on the fly. But somehow, when I do, it ends up being my tastiest meals. I'd like to re-create this soup, though, so here's the recipe (since my recipe box and cards are still packed up!).

Autumn Veggie & Rice Soup

1. Saute one large red onion in 3T olive oil over medium heat.

2. Add 3 celery stalks, 4 carrots and 1 turnip, chopped into large chunks.

3. Add 1/2 yellow bell bepper, 1/2 green bell pepper, 4 med. yellow tomatoes, chopped.

4. Add 2 cups beef broth/gravy and 2-3 cups water. Season with salt, italian seasonings, dash of cayenne, garlic powder, and a splash of white wine vinegar.

5. Simmer 1-2 hours on low or low-medium heat.

6. Add juice of 1/2 lemon, some chopped frozen or fresh spinach, 1/4-1/2 cup peas and 1 1/2 cup cooked rice. Simmer at least 45 minutes or as long as you want.

Serve with fresh parmesan cheese and perhaps a bit more salt. Substitute freely with whatever is in your cupboard, freezer or refrigerator. :)

Forward Motion

Maddi woke up 7 months old today. And she cried. Another tooth, of course.

This sense of loss at the passing of time feels all-consuming these days. I share a story with my mom about Joseph, look in the rear-view mirror and don't see the same baby. I see a boy who wants to leave.

In a book I just finished reading, a woman's counselor strongly advised her not to have another baby while still in therapy. In fact, he recommends that all of his clients wait at least a year after terminating therapy until they even try to conceive. Why is this?

Patients form such an intense bond with their therapist, that, upon severing that relationship, people will search for a new one. Babies bridge that gap between the sad reality of our alone-ness and the hope of connection and intimacy.

Nothing is more intimate than a cuddling, nursing baby, who is still warm from leaving your body. This sweet, small creature - the perfect image of yourself - needs and wants you. Desperately. You alone make this most lovely person happy.

Yes, talk about connection.

This therapist went on to discuss with her the fact that the timing of her strong desire to have a baby just as she was planning to terminate therapy showed her motivation: avoidance of pain.

I think this is why mothers cry through each and every milestone of their children's lives. And I think this is why those of us who are less mature wail and gnash our teeth in front of our children while talking about said milestones.

Our children need us to be strong for them. To encourage them to grow up, be independent, take risks, get hurt, learn love and pain, and - well, to enter the adult world of suffering. Because that is where joy and wisdom and Christ are.

But to do this, they must leave. And we almost can't bear it. It almost swallows us whole. Just the idea of the emptiness, the life's work, the love - gone, is enough to make our hearts gasp.

But we know, don't we, that this is Good? That it is good to see our longing for intimacy and connection? As our children leave us, we are left with this aching hole that needs filling. God will fill us, and that hole (I am learning to see) is good.

It is good, too, to see this now, as they are young. So that we can spend their whole life convincing these children that leaving us is wonderful for them. That nothing would make us more proud than to see them grow.

One day, we will have children who have flourished because we loved them. You know, the real kind of Love, that sacrifices our selves (our longings, tears and hidden sadness) so that they can grow.

I'm looking forward to that One Day, because I will see my son and my daughters, and I think they will have grown up enough to really love me too. With that same real, sacrificial Love that I pray everyday that I could somehow show them.

Justice and Love

My friend, Norman, has good thoughts about how to handle controversies in the church. It's good to think about these things, because I don't want to sacrifice love in the name of justice, nor justice in the name of love.

I completely agree that mere offense is not enough reason to start an argument. I agree that we all want to speak our minds, and it's dangerous if we are waiting our turn to speak rather than listening to what others have to say. I think criticisms should always be qualified, and always leave room for clarification and reconciliation. And I think these things are easier said than done. It's good for me to have you around to remind me.

I also think that silence has created as many broken homes as careless speech. In every scandal, every time a priest abuses a little boy, every time a pastor engages with impunity in sexual practices he has railed against from the pulpit, every time the cross of Christ has been used as a justification for oppressing women, blacks, or any other group, every time the leaders of the church have quietly led their flocks out of the eyes of society and down the road of a new gospel... there have always been those who saw problems, saw warning signs, and may have even spoken to these leaders about their concerns, but in the end kept their fears to themselves. A murderer walks free for a want of two witnesses willing to speak publicly rather than go to the murderer first.

Now, this previous point is gross hyperbole. Mark Driscoll has not killed anybody, he has not sexually abused children, beaten his wife, ordered a black man to the back of the bus, or throw trash and yelled at men leaving a gay bar. He hasn't done those things. But he has said things that many find very hurtful, and not in keeping with the gospel or Scripture. He didn't just say them to his small group, or even to his own church. He published them in a public forum, inviting public critique, even from other believers.

If Rachel Held Evans sees what he has done publicly as 'bullying,' then she would be doing truth, unity, and the gospel of Christ a disservice if she remained silent, or merely told him 'I think this is bad' and then sat back as she saw it continue. There is always the danger that Ms. Evans' passion will lead to error and lack of love. This is no less true of Pastor Driscoll's passion. Passion is fire, and fire is dangerous. It doesn't mean we should hide it. And it certainly doesn't mean (to borrow the words of another controversial Christian figure) that we should "trade truth for false unity."

4 Months

Maddi's fourth month has been a standout month for our family. We finished fixing up the house, put it on the market, got a contract, and sold it. We moved all of our belongings here to Tulsa, Joseph got his first bee sting at the park, Emma became officially potty-trained, and we generally lived in stressful, exciting upheaval.

While we were sprinting around, Maddi decided to check some things off her baby to do list.

Two and a half weeks ago, her aim sharpened, her grip tightened and she was able to grab and play with objects for the first time. This is a big one for mamas, since that means I can add 5 more minutes to the time she can play by herself. I appreciate it.

Two weeks ago she started scooching on her back. We were packing in OKC and I found her under our guest bed! She's an excellent scoocher.

One and a half weeks ago, she started sucking her thumb! She now goes to sleep sucking her thumb, although she still cries and yells a bit to get it out.

One week ago, she said "ba!". She wasn't being sardonic (not Maddi!), but discovered a new consonant. Aaron wants me to work on her d's, but I know he has an ulterior motive.

Five days ago, she cut her first tooth. Right smack on her bottom gum, it popped out. I cried. Give me more time, Maddi! is what I say to her. But no, she's moving on. Without me.

And just now, as I sit here at home, while the rest of the family is at church, Maddi rolled over! I'm not sure I can take all this change. But yes, the sweet girl was screaming in her crib, which is unlike her, and I found her on her back like an abandoned turtle.

She is really pressing on, so I suppose I should catch up with her. But I'm way back in March, when my precious newborn was learning to coo. I still contend that time is not where I'm from, or it wouldn't feel so awkward when I put it on.