Two weeks ago, we met the lady who would potentially rent her on-the-market house to us for three months. A short term lease is an all-out miracle in this town/area. We had been looking and looking, calling and calling, and the answer was the same for company and private apartments alike: we only do 12 month leases. We were praying for a miracle. Specifically, I prayed that someone would learn our story, or meet us, and think: I need to help this family.
Prayers are answered. After meeting the woman and viewing her house, we fell in love, and she grudgingly told us that we could rent it if we wanted it. We discussed it that night, and decided to keep our family intact throughout this last semester of school. As we viewed the house, and met the woman, I learned that her family was a big name on campus. I kept thinking: "Rackley, Rackley, where is that building? why is it so familiar?"
As we drove off, it hit me. Two years of my life were spent working from that building. Numerous classes were taken there. It is a part of my academic career. And now I was probably staying in the house belonging to the man for whom the building was named. Weird.
Last Wednesday we signed the lease. As we were going through the process, I told our landlady about the connection. She was impressed. It became more important later in the process when she told us her story. Her parents-in-law (the people who the building is named after) sold her the house a few years ago as a gift. As she was debating whether to rent to us, or to another person (who was willing to sign a 12-month lease), she had a dream where her mother-in-law reminded her that the house was a gift. Our landlady took that as an indication that she needed to rent the house to us, and help our little family.
Prayers are answered, and the Rackley's are a part of my school experience.
ps- as exciting as signing the lease was, my husband is even more excited to end our two months as squatters, and sleep in his own place on Sunday!
