When I was growing up, I remember dreaming of one day renting a home with my husband.

False.  Who dreams of renting?

Usually, when I’m lolly-ing along in wonderland, I imagine having something of my own. Often I forget that having these things requires a plan and saving, especially when that thing comes with a large price tag.

When we married in July 2013, there was no question of whether we would buy or rent.  We were living in North Carolina while G finished his commitment in the military, and then we planned on relocating once he found another job. Easy decision: renting it was.

I still think about our apartment from time to time.  G did an excellent job of picking it out and met all three of my requirements: 1) clean 2) safe 3) preferably on the first floor so I wouldn’t have to carry furniture up stairs on move-in day.  While I was there I never really had feelings of discontentment with our space, because I knew it was temporary.

Fast forward to five months later: G was offered a job, we hurried down to our new city and looked at 8 different places in a 24 hour period.  Because of a few different things that I’ll talk about in the days to come, renting was once again our best option.

And now here we are.  Debt free {praise the Lord!}, loving our city, getting to know the areas we frequent, and all of the sudden I have a strong urge for us to buy, not because I’m unhappy with where we are, but rather, it just seems like the next thing to do.

But is that really a way to live? Always looking to the next thing to fill a void? I don’t think so. Instead, these last few months, I’ve we’ve put nails in the walls and opened our doors to welcome others into our home – even if it’s not our forever home.  And through it, I’ve started to find more joy and contentment.  I still look at listings on Trulia, but the urgency and void I once felt are lessening.   And slowly but surely, I’m becoming content to rent.