Where We Dwell

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I am still the renter in my family.

When I was a kid, we moved a lot. Within the same small Southern town.

I didn’t question it; I just hopped on the back of the truck and squeezed between the chairs, headboards, and mattresses. No reason to comb my wind-whipped hair until the end of the day.

If I didn’ t have to change schools, it was exciting. A new room, a new yard, a new everything. Maybe even a new friend.

I saw my mom and dad work every day of their lives; because we couldn’t afford a mortgage was nothing to be ashamed of.

I saw my dad, always hopeful, spread out a house plan on the kitchen table. I’m sure it rivaled any professional architect’ s.

That was always the plan; to build a house.

I lived in plain farm houses, brick houses, mobile homes, and a cinderblock house.

We always had a yard. And sometimes a barn, a garden, and dirt paths.

My mom supervised every move. We all scrubbed the floors, walls, and windows.

Every appliance was degreased, shined, and ready for the next renter.

I followed that same renter’s code throughout my life.

You learn a lot as a renter.

And buying a house is not always the best decision.

Dad used to say it wasn’t throwing money away if you had a place to live; you are getting something in return. Your family is sheltered.

When you buy a house, yes, you are investing and building equity. But you are also responsible for every problem that arises. Expensive problems. And, of course, our friend Mr. Tax.

For me, when I was working full-time, renting apartments made sense. I decided I’d rather pay for peace of mind– knowing I wasn’t in charge of maintenance. I was paying for that peace of mind, which was more valuable to me at the time.

I’m all for home ownership. If it makes sense, depending on circumstances.

But to rent and be a good steward of the land can be a noble thing.