NICK EICHER, HOST: Today is Tuesday, March 30th. Good morning! This is The World and Everything in It from listener-supported WORLD Radio. I’m Nick Eicher.
MARY REICHARD, HOST: And I’m Mary Reichard.
Commentator Whitney Williams now on learning to be content.
WHITNEY WILLIAMS, COMMENTATOR: About 13 years ago during my senior year of college, I took a personality test that revealed my decision-making process uses nearly 100 percent emotion and zero logic.
My husband was warned.
I consider these results fairly often and think that surely over these past 13 years, I must have become a little less emotional and a little more logical, working at WORLD for almost 10 of those years, marrying a man who is eight years older than I, having three children… “adulting.”
But then our real estate agent sends me a property listing.
I call my husband: “THIS IS THE ONE! DRIVE BY ON YOUR WAY HOME FROM WORK!”
He hasn’t yet seen the photos, but he sees the address—“it’s on a super busy road,” he says, reminding me that we’d just discussed that road a few days prior and had decided against it.
My eyes try not to roll to the back of my head. “DOESN’T MATTER!” I say. “This house is AWESOME. Woods! It’s in the wooooods!” Pinterest perfect! AirBNBish! He reluctantly agrees to do a drive by.
I promptly text my mom the link to the house along with emojis that signify excitement, including a firey explosion, big eyeballs looking to the side, a dancing lady, and a shocked-face smiley.
My mom looks at the link and fans my flame. “Yes! You need to go see it tonight! And I LOVE my apartment,” she says. That’s a reference to the little bed, bath, and kitchenette above the garage.
I warm dinner, anxiously awaiting my husband’s call. We will need to go look with the realtor TONIGHT, I think to myself. “Should I go ahead and put on real pants?”
My husband calls. “Nope. SO MANY NOPES. Drive over here and see for yourself,” he says, crushing my very soul.
I do drive over, determined to ignore the person riding my bumper as I search for the ‘for sale’ sign on the busy, curving road.
I park in the driveway to have a good stare at the house. As I stand there, I get a text from my mom listing some negatives: “Kitchen super small, master bathroom tiiii-ny.”
“My mom, the traitor!” I think to myself.
My husband and I don’t talk much the rest of the evening, which gives me time to face the super annoying facts: This isn’t the best house for us. Once again seeking contentment in our current home, I begin telling myself the things one is supposed to tell oneself in these types of situations: Small bathrooms mean I have less to clean! Tupperware tumbling out of crowded kitchen cabinets signifies an abundance of food! Crowded quarters make for closer interactions with my hubby and three little boys. And a new home will not fill the void in my heart. True satisfaction, I remember, can only be found in Jesus. And in that moment, contentment comes.
Thank you, Lord, for this lesson and the next. Because I’m sure I’ll need a reminder when the next listing comes along.
Until the next listing.
I’m Whitney Williams.