Recently I worked with a buyer “from away” who had their heart set on a particular property here in the lake region. The place was a real charmer. Rough-hewn exterior, wraparound porch, with sunsets and wide water views of the lake, and a warm pine interior. It was a place that “spoke to them”.
The buyer, after giving the place the once over, was actually giggling with delight. “I know I shouldn’t say this to you but I love this place“. Her husband was equally thrilled but, thankfully, held off on the giggling. “Tom, lets get together tommorow at your office and write up an offer”. I was excited for them.
On Sunday afternoon we got together at my office. Although thrilled with the place they still did not want to pay too much. The offer we made was not insultingly low but not a full price offer either. We gave the seller until 5:00 pm on Monday to respond. I was very confident that, worst case, we would be getting a counter offer from the seller.
On Monday at 4:45 pm I received a call from the seller’s agent. He informed me that our offer was rejected and another offer had been accepted! I couldn’t believe it. It’s the dead of winter! Who looks at property on Mondays? The deal was dead.
I, then, had the unenviable task of calling the buyer.
As I dialed the phone number I was almost hoping to get the answering machine. But instead the buyer picked up and said “Hi Tom, we’ve been waiting for your call”.
I told her the bad news. There was the silence of shock coming from the other end of the line. I nervously began to apologize saying that maybe I should should have advised them better. Maybe I should have recommended a full price offer. Maybe this and maybe that. I began rambling on, speculating about how this might have happened .
Finally, she said “Tom, it’s not your fault. It just wasn’t meant to be.” Then she added, “God must have a better property in mind for us.”
She said it with such serenity and grace. There was not a trace in her voice of the bitter dissapointment she had most certainly felt only minutes before.
At that moment all 6’ foot 5’ of me felt about 2 inches tall. Somewhere over the course of time I had forgotten what the holy sisters at St. Mary’s School in South Boston had taught me over 50 years ago.
True believers in God are innoculated with a vaccine that protects them from life’s daily dissapointments, disasters and debacles. Shame on me for forgetting that.