This week, I had a realization. I absentmindedly searched for “How to buy a house when self-employed” and discovered that most mortgage lenders require 2 years of consistent business performance before they will consider giving you a loan.
I could pontificate about why this is dumb (especially considering how many people are moving to self-employment amidst the pandemic), but I won’t. All I will say is, it made me realize that my timeline was a bit off. I was hoping to start searching for a farm next summer, and move before my lease was up in November. But this no longer makes logical sense.
If I want to ensure I can meet my mortgage payments, I need consistent income in my future career (my coaching/art/farm business). And while I intend to keep my current job, buying a house while relying on that income feels foolish, especially right now. I need a clear picture of how the business will do before committing to a mortgage. Damn my practicality.
So, this week I reflect on patience, and the idea of staying put for another 2 years before the dream can start to manifest. Ultimately, it’s okay. But I am just not a patient person.
As has been the case a lot lately, Mother Nature decided to show me an example of the most dedicated (and necessary) patience.
I woke up (with the cat jumping all over me) at 6 this last Sunday, and decided to go out to near the University in Seattle, hoping to see some birds of prey hunting. I did catch some bald eagles across the lake, but too far away to get good photos of. But even so, I saw lots of geese, an incredible sunrise, and a Wood Duck!
On our way out, we encountered this beauty.
I did some research to determine whether this bird was male or female, but apparently size is the primary indicator, and without context it’s really hard to tell. However, this bird was probably the largest heron I’ve seen, so I’ll call it a “him.” 😉
While I took some photos and paused to wonder at him, he simply stood patiently, changing positions occasionally as he saw something move in the water. He was steady as stone, and at times the only detectible movement was a light gust of wind through his chest feathers. This was his hunt for his breakfast, and as I thought about the cheesy potatoes I had shoved down my gullet the previous day for breakfast, I had to giggle to myself, and feel slightly ridiculous.
I moved on before he even was able to catch a single thing. I wondered whether he would be successful, or if he would move to a more plentiful location. This was a regular practice for him, gazing into the murky water waiting for the slightest movement — no control over whether any food came near him at all.
So, after a few days and this lovely heron as my inspiration, I am feeling okay about a potentially longer timeline. All good things are worth waiting for. And I’m pretty grateful that I have what I have, including that I don’t need to hunt for raw fish daily to stay alive. Of course, I hope my Heron friend loves every minute of it.
