We’re sitting in the car with the windows open, sipping coffee and enjoying the early autumn view of the North Thompson River. I’ve got two Yorkies on my lap—Murphy, as usual, and Maya because she’s startled by Gerry’s sneezing (it’s allergy season). Meanwhile, strangers are walking through my home, considering whether it’s the one for them.
Earlier, in what has become routine, Gerry vacuumed while I was in the shower and, afterward, I swept the floors, did a cursory dusting, and tucked things usually left out away in cupboards. Everything put away? Check. All toilet lids down? Check. All the lights on? Check. We load the dogs in the car and head off for an hour or so while a realtor with prospective buyers visit our home.
The first home Gerry and I sold together went in a week. The last, lingered on the market for more than three months. We’re praying for something in the middle this time. We’re living in the in-between—the place of uncertainty and eagerness to get going. “All in God’s good time” has become my mantra.
But it’s good too, allowing us time to look at things with a critical eye and consider what to take with us to Saskatchewan (hint: it’s a lot less than we brought back to Canada with us during our last move). An opportunity to practice patience? Who doesn’t need one of those every now and then? (Ugh.)
There is that pesky thing called winter looming. It’s no picnic on the Canadian prairie and, Lord willing, we hope to be moved before it starts to rear too much of its icy head. If not, we’ll manage. It’ll all work out. All in God’s good time.
Meanwhile, another day, another showing.