Extreme Makeover - Reuschel edition

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!

2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV)

So I was mowing lawn.  

That was really when a sense of peace came over me that it was okay to move forward with the farmhouse.  I was listening to a Chip Ingram podcast; Your Divine Design.  It was early July and I was all caught up on fantasy football podcasts.  So I decided to listen to Chip.  (My priorities are not always where they should be. I’m working on it)

Part one of his message is about “extreme makeovers” and taking something old and making it new.  The idea of remodeling a farmhouse and yard is a romantic one.  And I’m romantic.  Carolyn says so all the time. Well sometimes.  However, there is a time when the starry-eyed lover needs to put down his box of chocolates and pick up a 4-pound sledge. And a chainsaw.  And a dust mask.  It takes just hours to fall out of love and realize that the notion of renovation is easier on HGTV, in 60 minutes.

We were comfortable in our mid-century ranch in Zeeland.  Over the last six years we had addressed most of the updating.  It was spacious but small enough to manage.  Big enough to still get cluttered but modest enough to handle in an evening’s time. Leaving the ranch for the farm would require a leap of faith.  And a lot of sweat.  

I grew up with a father and mother whose primary hobby was working on the property.  They had purchased a farm and some acres, overgrown and dilapidated, from family.  My father was always willing to include me in any remodel event or chore even though it undoubtingly slowed him down.  Significantly.  This is not lost on me as I watch our two sons grow and shadow me.  I have always wanted my own chance at saving a farmhouse. And to do so with my trophy wife, obstinate children, and poorly behaved dog.

Every day that passed in town made it harder and harder to move.  It got more and more comfortable.  To be honest: too comfortable.  I had heard once, probably from Chip, that God does not call us to be comfortable.  He calls us to have faith. In Him.  Not in things, circumstances, or property.   As I sat on the mower this July afternoon I felt God saying, “it’s okay to pursue this, in fact, I will provide you with opportunities to trust Me”.  That’s another romantic idea, sermon point, and Bible study fodder.  But genuinely praying and having faith in Him on this was intimidating and daunting.      

I cannot say for sure when I noticed the farm house but the first time I took intentional action to look into it was this past spring when I was hauling Dad’s rototliler home one Saturday evening.  I was using the small utility trailer my grandpa Reuschel had built many years ago.  It has low speed bearings in the hubs so I try to keep road speeds below 30 miles per hour.  The most direct route from the ranch back to my parent’s house took me down 104^th (Ottawa County) to 50^th St (Allegan County).  And, as fate would have it, I stopped just prior to the stop sign approaching 146^th avenue to check the tie downs and ensure the hubs hadn’t seized.  As I walked back to the Acadia I took a second to notice a ramshackle old manor just off the roadway.  The spring growth on the grounds was dynamic and the house was alluring.  It was unmistakably unoccupied.   Places like this in a location such as this are few and far between.  I filed it away in the places that guys like me file things away; and carried on.

As Carolyn outlined earlier, we put some feelers out there but mostly carried on with life as is.  Then my mom texted us a picture of a “for sale by owner” sign.  I knew immediately what this was concerning.  Car and I were downtown Holland at the street performers.  What struck me that Car was interested as well was the fact that she offered to drive home so that I could call the numbers. To me that meant she was in on it too. 

It was hard for me to get on board with moving.  We had a great house with better neighbors.  I had cable, DVR, and high-speed internet. Our road was plowed every morning by 6:45am.  The city picked up my leaves and we never lost power.  And there would be so much work.  I went through the house with three contractors and numerous other subcontractors.  Each contractor brought up the price to knock the house down and start over.  On their own.  A couple subs mentioned “lead paint” or some other licensing limitation that would preclude them from the work.  I get it fella.

And then there was the septic quote.  25 grand.  Twenty five thousand dollars.  To explain: This part of Fillmore Township is ripe with clay.  Local government regulations require drain fields (the secondary part of a septic system) be elevated and filled with sand and appropriate gravel.  If left to its own wastewater would not filter out appropriately by the time it reentered the aquifers.  The drain field has to be large and about 1,500 yards of sand would have to be hauled in.  The price tag was enough for me to throw in the towel.  It was not just this one thing but rather all the other work that needed to be done and what we wanted to do.  To her credit, Carolyn never conceded.  We continued praying.  And the next afternoon I mowed the lawn.