How Many Hammer Taps Can You Bare?

Many of my readers know about the complications of my housing situation. For a several years, I had been commuting nearly two and a half hours every day to and from Answers in Genesis (AiG). For the first couple years, this was okay. I'd even enjoy the drive as a time to think, pray, or "study." In those five years, I've listened to audiobooks of the entire Bible; all of AiG's audio messages (several times); the complete Lord of the Rings, Tom Clancy's "Ryanverse," and Left Behind series; most of Michael Crichton's audiobooks; all of AiG's audiobooks; and even my entire library of more than 460 soundtracks. I liken each trip to a hammer gently tapping my finger. One tap is nothing; even a few taps are barely felt. But repeat that gentle tap for thousands of times and my finger will really throb in pain. After nearly five years of driving more than 140 miles every day, my faculties were seriously bruised and almost totally drained. I had to find a solution. In December, 2005, AiG was gracious enough to allow me to live in "Deck Lane House" on Creation Museum property. But that could only last through January. Shortly after the new year, Sharon came to AiG, but she had a slight problem of having just purchased a home but could not move in. I housesat that five-bedroom house for nearly three months. Leaving it was like leaving a dear friend. After hours and hours of financial calculations, I knew the best option was to seek my own dwelling near my workplace. I housesat for another family and also rented an empty condo from a friend. But each evening was spent on the internet, crunching more numbers, conducting more research. Near the end of April, I picked a realtor from the several that I had interviewed. He had one purpose for me—find a house that met my prerequisites and fit my budget. The first house was quite interesting—a foreclosure that still had the family's junk throughout the house. I was optimistic and prepared to place an offer, but it went into contract before I could have it inspected. I found other houses that were slightly nicer, but before I could get a showing, they would go into contract. With each attempt, I'd be encouraged to remember that it meant that God had something even better for me. Then I found a HUD home that was much nicer than the other houses, despite its condition, and I felt that I could place a fair bid. But I was out-bid by nearly $25,000. At this point, I didn't think there would be anything nicer. I was encouraged to learn that one of the previous houses that I had seen was back on the market. My parents viewed it through their professional perspective and thought it was a fair deal and that my contemplated offer was a reasonable price. But something wasn't right. I just didn't feel like placing an offer on this house. That was Sunday, May 14. Monday was filled with doubts and deep ponderings. I was discouraged and decided to take a look on the internet instead of waiting for an email from my realtor. Then … To be continued …