Oh Deer

There once was a girl who lived deep in the forest. Ok, so "girl" might be a bit of a stretch when you're closing in on 44, but it sounds better than "broad" or "this fed's old lady."  What I'm not exaggerating about is living in a forest.  The subdivision is called Lake Forest, it is Alabama's largest by far and with over 3000 homeowners, one of the largest in the country.  I have already been lost in my own neighborhood multiple times. I implemented a strict policy of no Lake Forest pick ups or drop offs with the kids after dark, shortly after moving to Daphne last year.  Leaving crumbs would do you no good. And now? I live here.

It would be impossible to characterize Lake Forest in any short summation and give you a true picture of what you might see. Every possible style of architecture from the past five decades is represented. Cape Cods, brick ranches, Georgians, Mediterranean stuccos, 80's Bavarian style homes, Spanish haciendas, Colonials, coastal retreats, and a host of what can only be categorized as "what were you thinking?!?" homes.  Together, somehow it works.  Like the messy art student's apartment.  It has an unnamed charm.

When we initially started looking for houses to rent, (we still own our house in Indy) I wasn't considering the area.  It just seemed a little dated.  But then I found the little black dress house.  You know the one, it fits you perfectly and it was destined to be yours.  Five bedrooms, gourmet kitchen I could literally see myself baking in, hardwoods throughout, wrap around porch, hot tub, massive deck, built on two lots complete with tangerine trees, grape arbor and hammock.  There was just one problem.  It wasn't for rent, it was for sale.

I have this husband though, who would walk over coals if he thought it would make me smile, so he called the realtor and started playing lets make a deal.  After a year on the market, the owner was game.  Or so we thought.  We were open to "lease to own" while we sold our house, but as it would turn out, the owner wanted the moon and we had to walk away.

I was truly devastated.  And if that sounds shallow, it was.  I had justified it in my mind though.  Great property, room enough for aging parents, great space to host youth group activities, and the listing sales price was a steal.  Good stewardship, right?  I really couldn't understand why God couldn't see how perfect this was for us.

Everything we looked at paled woefully in comparison in the following weeks.  Our lease was coming due very shortly.  And then, the rental market seemed to dry up.  Nothing was coming available.  When this property blipped on the radar, I was quick to make an appointment.  It was a rainy day and our walk-thru could not have been more than five minutes.  My impressions - it is sizeable, this carpet reeks of dog, that yard is too scary to even let my dog out, which is probably why this carpet reeks of dog.  And with that, we put down a deposit, with the assurance that yard and carpet would be addressed.

The night we got the keys, it was pouring down rain again.  The water had not been turned on.  The carpet odor seemed worse than ever and the yard was still a Brazilian jungle.  The rain stopped and they finally chopped down the jungle, sort of.  But what remained was worse.  Two deer.  No, not real ones.  The cheesy, fake ones that strange people put in their yards.  Only these apparently hadn't been weatherized and now looked like they had leprosy.

I was scheduled to work a few nights later and as I was walking through the dining room running late, I looked up and there was a winged monkey on my wall. Ok, they are actually called palmetto bugs but they are as big as winged monkeys.  I heard someone shriek (it was me) and all four menfolk came a-runnin' and managed to slay the beast.  A week or so ago, I ran over an albino armadillo.  The very next night I had to swerve heroically to miss a crossing possum.  The boys told me the shed is a haven for lizards.  I never plan to find out.  It seems there will be a new critter encounter almost daily.

It's funny though, we seem to have found our rhythm here.  We are actually eating dinner together and the neighborhood kids have already found us.  I have had two "I Love Lucy" sized disasters in my new non-gourmet kitchen, complete with billowing smoke, fire alarms and belly laughter.  Everyone gets nervous now when I start talking about a new recipe I found.

Yesterday our pastor was speaking about Abraham, and God telling him to go to a "land that I will show you."  That had to be pretty disconcerting.  Can you at least tell me how many bedrooms, Lord?  What about a hammock?

Now that I am here, it is so very clear to me.  He really does know best.  We are very happy in our new home.  I look back on what I thought was best in the little black dress house.  The yard was not fenced for our dog.  The hot tub didn't even work.  Too many steps to maneuver for my aging parents.  And worst of all, no leprous deer to gaze upon out the kitchen window.