After making an offer on the property, we spent the winter under a strange tension. On one hand we longed for spring; on the other, we were oddly grateful for the temporary lull.
A Winter of Preparation
Throughout the winter my husband studied whenever he could. Although he is a Red Seal carpenter, our province required him to pass an expensive home‑builder exam. We also had last-minute details to finalize on our house design before getting the final stamp of approval, and construction costs needed careful recalculation.
Even though the season looked quiet from the outside, things were happening behind the scenes.
Moving Forward
When spring finally arrived, the percolation tests passed and we met with the bank to learn the next steps. Watching my husband during that time gave me a new appreciation for him. He juggled work plus paperwork, tests, estimates, building codes, research and quotes—and I couldn’t help in many of those tasks.
Despite the stress and being pulled in many directions, he handled everything well. The pressure was high, but his knowledge and competence were unmistakable. Though the season was challenging, it strengthened our resolve and appreciation for the work ahead.
Another Delay
Just as we were ready to move forward, forest fires ignited within fifty kilometres of the future building site. That delay stalled the insurance approval process: without cooperation from the insurer, the mortgage paperwork could not be finalized and the land sale could not close.
That setback cost us over six weeks. Eventually the insurance company gave the go‑ahead, the bank’s appraiser visited, and we were finally able to proceed—for real this time.
Signing the Papers
Signing the bill of sale at the local notary’s office was exhilarating. Shortly after, we met at the bank to finalize the mortgage. Midway through signing, our financial officer dropped an unexpected requirement: the bank would withhold 10% of all building costs until the house was complete.
We had somehow missed that detail. The policy meant the bank kept a 10% reserve to cover any unpaid trades or suppliers; if we failed to pay someone, the bank would use the reserve to settle the account.
Everything Falls into Place
Sitting in that office, it became clear why our prior delays had been a blessing. Last fall, if we had rushed to buy the land, we wouldn’t have had sufficient savings to manage the project while my husband took time off to build. We could have covered the down payment, but we would have been left without a comfortable living reserve.
Because we waited until September to make our offer, because the percolation tests were pushed back, and because the forest fires delayed the process, our savings were intact at the crucial moment. Instead of resenting those delays, we felt grateful. The experience reminded us of the value of thoughtful decision‑making and asking for guidance.
I don’t view God as a genie who guarantees earthly success, but after asking for direction we received provision beyond our foresight. Things fell into place in a way that felt providential.
A Harness on My Neck
I expected to feel sheer elation when the papers were signed, but instead a sense of vulnerability washed over me. Our financial cushion was diminished and the commitment was real. Along with that apprehension came a resolve: I felt like a horse stepped into a harness, the leather cool against my neck, ready to pull harder than before.
We left the bank feeling victorious and a little dazed. At home we opened a jar of home‑canned peaches we had saved for the occasion. It didn’t matter that the jar was a year old or that we’d preserved fresher fruit since—this was the jar we’d held onto, and we celebrated with it.
It Was Truly Ours
That evening we drove up to the land and celebrated with a small campfire. The late‑summer night was cool and still. Stars emerged overhead, and in the eastern sky a large harvest moon rose above the mountains, its light filtering through the tall pines at the back of our property. For the first time it felt fully and undeniably ours.
The silence was restorative and the mountain air invigorating. A gentle breeze whispered through the tree tops. For a moment we rested in the peace before the hard work began.
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