And just when you least expect it … it sells.

Of all God’s magnificent attributes, perhaps His sense of humor delights me the most.

He’d shown me that even the dreams He gives must die. The house-sell dream had died. Was dead. So dead that when I left the house on Friday for a weekend away with my dear group of mentor girls, I didn’t even bother to clean.

Read again: did not clean.

For 90 showings I had cleaned this house ’til I was dripping sweat. I had smoothed beds and walked around the vacuum lines and put out fresh fruit and wiped off smudges and made appliances shine. I had shoved toys under beds and put baskets of laundry in the back of my car.  We busted our tails showing this house for a year.

Then I ran off to my mentor retreat without so much as wiping down counters. (It’d been a full week!)

Jeff threw the house in order for one last-minute showing on Saturday, then early Sunday he was out the door for a 16-hour workday.  So when I finally checked my messages on Sunday, when the retreat was over, you can imagine my surprise when I returned a voicemail message to an agent, apologizing that I’d missed her call requesting to see the house.

She responded, a smile in her voice: “Oh no, I’m sorry we missed you.  We already came and wrote an offer!”

My jaw dropped. You came? We didn’t even know. My mind ran ahead, “Were the beds made? Was there underwear on the floor?” (I later found the answer to both was no.)

Yes, that is how the story goes. We countered, they countered, and last night we accepted their offer.

Sale Pending.

Of course nothing’s certain. These things do fall through sometimes, but it IS a sweet kiss from our God and has my eyes and heart brim-full and laughing a little at his sweet sense of humor. This morning I looked around the house and had to shake my head at all the “imperfections” — spotted mirrors and dirty floor. Breakfast skillet still on the stove.  Dutch’s schoolwork on the fridge, all the “un-show-worthy” items I usually tuck away.

I had to wonder if maybe all the imperfections are lovely after all …

Maybe life’s more beautiful when it’s just a bit messy?

Lovely-mess. Lovlimess. (The new word I’ll coin to describe my life.)

Maybe to the buyers fingerprints mean fun? Maybe to them laundry loads mean love?

We didn’t even know they were coming — had no time to prepare …

Maybe just letting people into our lives, as-is, is more attractive than anything else?

The mundane, ordinary world, the details of daily life never cease to whisper their lessons to us, don’t they?

Grace and authenticity are beautiful. The lovely-mess.

Here’s to spots on the mirror. To lovlimess. Your slightly spotted life is beautiful grace — invite the world to walk on in.

{Thanks for reading and HOORAY!}