there's always a second house.

Last February, before social distancing and masks, I sat in a restaurant celebrating yet another couple I knew closing on a house. Under the table, I counted on my fingers. That made eight friends – eight friends who had bought a house before Josh and me.

I wasn’t like Josh and I weren’t looking for a house. Actually, we had secretly been looking for a year and a half. But we always found something to complain about. The location wasn’t right, the kitchen was too small, or it was out of our price range.

As we drove home that night, I complained, “Why are we so behind compared to everyone else?”

I should have known better. Comparison is the thief of joy, right? But I just wanted to know we were on the right path.

Then COVID hit a few weeks later and we put house shopping on the back burner. However, despite the pandemic, things fell into place. We got a great deal on a house we had eyed for years. We closed in a month. When we got the keys, I sighed with relief. Finally. No more apartment. No more feeling behind.

For a while, I had a sense of false comfort knowing that our path in life looked similar to everyone else’s. That was until a few weeks ago, our friends announced on social that they had bought their SECOND house.

So much for catching up.

Immediately, I went into a funky head space again. But the Holy Spirit convicted me: there’s always a second house.

Like I said, we should know better. Yet, when you’re scrolling on social media or catching up with a friend, how many of us have sat there and started picking our lives apart? Why don’t we have this promotion or have this relationship? Suddenly, you go from laughing at cat videos or building community to being bitter and angry. God wasn’t wrong. Comparison is a joy thief.

I find myself wondering if David began to compare his life to other kings as he hid from Saul in a cave. Or Ruth as she labored in a field, newly widowed in a foreign land. Or Mary as she sat pregnant with our Savior. Or even Paul as he sat shipwrecked or imprisoned.

A month before we closed on our house, we looked at another home – five houses up the street from our current one. The owners were anxious to sell, and we could have easily signed the papers that day. It made sense to, but something felt off and we walked away. Now, I drive by that first house every day and thank Jesus we waited a little longer.

I don’t know what you’re wrestling through or believing God for right now. But I can promise you that you will always find that second house when you look at someone else’s journey. Trust the process, even when it seems slow. Your timing is coming and when it does, it will be so worth it.

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Hey guys! I'm Tobi. I'm a New Yorker born and raised, but I currently call Virginia home alongside my husband, Josh, and our two fur babies Felix and Naga.

Since I was a kid, you could always find me writing. Over the years, the platforms have looked a little different, but my mission has been the same: point others back to Jesus.

When I'm not writing, you can find me binge-watching a true-crime doc on Netflix or checking out too many books at our local library. If you ever want to chat about why Toy Story 2 is the greatest movie of all time, then I'm your girl.