WiW: Patty’s Place

On the internet, we call it the House of Dreams, like Anne’s House of Dreams. But really, it reminds us more of Patty’s Place.

“If we could only find a house!” sighed Priscilla. “Look over there at Kingsport, Anne–houses, houses everywhere, and not one for us.”

“Stop it, Pris. ‘The best is yet to be.’ Like the old Roman, we’ll find a house or build one. On a day like this there’s no such word as fail in my bright lexicon.”

They lingered in the park until sunset, living in the amazing miracle and glory and wonder of the springtide; and they went home as usual, by way of Spofford Avenue, that they might have the delight of looking at Patty’s Place.

“I feel as if something mysterious were going to happen right away–‘by the pricking of my thumbs,'” said Anna, as they went up the slope. “It’s a nice story-bookish feeling. Why–why–why! Priscilla Grant, look over there and tell me if it’s true, or am I seein’ things?”

Priscilla looked. Anne’s thumbs and eyes had not deceived her. Over the arched gateway of Patty’s Place dangled a little, modest sign. It said “To Let, Furnished. Inquire Within.”

“Priscilla,” said Anne, in a whisper, “do you suppose it’s possible that we could rent Patty’s Place?”

“No, I don’t,” averred Priscilla. “It would be too good to be true. Fairy tales don’t happen nowadays. I won’t hope, Anne. The disappointment would be too awful to bear. They’re sure to want more for it than we can afford. Remember, it’s on Spofford Avenue.”

“We must find out anyhow,” said Anne resolutely. “It’s too late to call this evening, but we’ll come tomorrow. Oh, Pris, if we can get this darling spot! I’ve always felt that my fortunes were linked with Patty’s Place, ever since I saw it first.”

~from Anne of the Island by L.M. Montgomery

Housing is tight in Columbus, Nebraska. We’d been searching for weeks without anything even close to suitable showing up. I kept passing “For Rent” signs in Lincoln and thinking of all the houses in the world–but not in Columbus, not for us.

And then we saw the ad for the House of Dreams. We called the out-of-state phone number and left a message.

I loved it from the moment I heard the street it was on. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t seen it yet. The street name was enough.

When we saw it, it was confirmation of what we’d known. This house would be perfect. Perfect for entertaining, perfect for ministering, perfect for our lives as busy professionals who love the “ministry of home”.

We barely dared to hope, though.

A perfect house in a perfect location at the perfect price in a tight housing market. Tons of people had looked at the house–the owner was sorting through dozens of applications.

There was no way ours would be picked.

But it was.

And we ended up in our own House of Dreams.

Thank You, Lord, for our own “story-bookish” tale.

Collect more quotes from throughout the week with Barbara H’s meme “The Week in Words”.