“Then God said, ‘I know. I heard your prayers. Now, trust My plan and My timing.’”
It started with a spark in my husband’s eye right at the turn of the New Year. "I have been thinking about a crazy idea,” he said. Since I don’t have a pocket face, he must have seen the “here we go again” written all over me because he continued: “Hear me out." This phrase usually means that his brain has been working overtime on something big. "What if we buy or rent an apartment to be closer to the kids?"
Our heartstrings are stretched thin these days. With one child in New York and two in North Carolina, we are the frequent flyers of the family. We visit often, especially to see our two little grandsons in New York, but living out of suitcases and hotels, especially in the middle of winter, has its challenges. The logic was sound: our own mattress, our own pillows, and—the ultimate selling point—"The grandkids can sleep over." I was nervous about the investment, but I told him to do the research. I also started praying: "Lord, if this is a good idea, open the door. If it isn't, please close it."
Fast forward four months. We found ourselves in a beautiful spot in New Jersey, just a ferry ride away from the city. The commute was doable, and the view of the skyline was breathtaking. I prayed again for clarity. And then, the door closed—literally. I came down with Covid, followed quickly by my husband.
As I sat in that hotel room looking out at the Hudson River, I had a lot of time to reflect on the week before I got sick. I realized that our "crazy idea" was based on a version of family life that has naturally evolved. Between our morning walks and the trek into the city, we’d arrive at our son’s house midday. We’d get a precious hour before naptime, and a few hours after school pickup, before it was time to head back. We babysat one night while the parents went to a gala, and by the time we returned to the hotel at midnight, we were completely exhausted. It was a stark reminder that while our hearts are ready for the marathon, our bodies might prefer a sprint.
The real "aha!" moment came when I offered to babysit for my daughter-in-law’s birthday. I wanted to give them a rare night off, but she mentioned she really wanted to spend the evening with her husband and her boys. At first, I felt a little sting of not being included, but then I saw it for what it truly was: a mother who loves her family and enjoys the life they’ve built. Their weekend schedule further confirmed it. Between playdates, errands, and outings, their "calendar" is full. When we shared the “crazy idea” with our daughter earlier this year, she said, "But we have friends." It didn't fully click until I saw her brother’s life in motion. They have built a community. They have deep roots. They have a beautiful, busy life that they’ve worked hard to create.
I realized then that if we got a second home there, we wouldn't just be "closer"—we would be navigating the delicate balance of trying to fit into a puzzle that is already complete. I don't ever want to be the "third wheel" who interrupts the rhythm of the life they are so proud of. I want to be the guest who adds joy, not the obligation that requires a schedule change.
As I watched the water of the Hudson, I felt a sense of peace. God didn’t just close the door to a real estate investment; He opened my eyes to my children’s success. They don’t "need" us to help them function anymore, and while that’s a little bittersweet for a parent, it’s actually the greatest compliment we could receive.
For now, I think we’ll keep the "crazy idea" on the shelf. I’m happy to remain the short-term visiting grandma—the one who arrives with a suitcase full of hugs, stays just long enough to make memories, and then retreats back to my own life and the family who needs me here, knowing my children are exactly where they are supposed to be.
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