Category: Personal Reflections

We have lived in this house for six years.

When we first viewed the house in person, I immediately fell in love.

Everyone made fun of me because I kept saying, “The house has great bones…” But it needed a lot of aesthetic work.

Over six years, we replaced the flooring in our bedroom. We actually added Luxury Vinyl Plank to the entire house. We installed it ourselves within the first two weeks of owning our house.

We removed the tile and added stone veneer to the fireplace in our bedroom and the living room.

Painted the walls.

We also removed a vanity that came straight out of the nineties, and we replaced it with a wall and a bigger closet.

But our bedroom still felt like chaos even with those upgrades because our furniture was not “our” furniture.

We needed a bedroom set.

That took a lot longer to find than I expected.

Lately, Marketplace has been flooded with scammers, so each time Robert and I shop there, we default to low expectations of completing the sale.

Robert and I had been talking about replacing our bedroom furniture for years.

When we got married, the very first furniture we bought together was a black bedroom set from Ashley Furniture. We loved it… until we moved.

Suddenly, the black furniture that looked perfect in our first house didn’t fit our next one. So around 2014, we bought another bedroom set from Ashley’s.

About six years later…

We broke the bed.

Yes.

While we were in it.

I’ll give you a second to laugh….

Okay. Moving on.

Like he always does, Robert somehow engineered a repair that kept that bed alive for several more years.

Eventually my mom gave us another bed, but it wasn’t part of a matching bedroom set. Before long our room looked like we’d furnished it by collecting random pieces over the last twenty years.

We had two nightstands and a dresser from one bedroom set.

A completely different bed.

And Robert’s forty-year-old chest of drawers that his grandfather built by hand.

I painted it a couple of years ago, and honestly, that thing is still built better than most furniture today. Nothing is loose, the drawers still glide perfectly, and I secretly loved how ridiculously deep they were.

Apparently, I have a thing for furniture that’s actually functional.

It just wasn’t exactly… coordinated.

For the last couple of years, I’d casually searched Facebook Marketplace.

And let me tell you something…

Marketplace is absolutely full of beautiful furniture…

…for someone else.

I’ve realized I have a pattern.

I don’t settle easily.

I waited for the right husband.

Now apparently I’ve spent two years waiting for the right bedroom set.

Robert graduated with a 4.0 engineering degree, was captain of his high school football team, and somehow managed to save his purity for his wife. I couldn’t have designed a better husband if someone had handed me a checklist.

So yes…

Marketplace has been full of perfectly nice bedroom sets.

They just weren’t my bedroom set.

Cherry wood? Absolutely not.

I know it has its place.

If you’re decorating a law office or executive office, go for it.

But in my bedroom?

No.

Pine?

Better.

Still not my favorite.

The color had to feel right.

The texture had to feel right.

The style had to feel right.

I’m picky.

Then one afternoon Facebook sent me a notification.

New listing.

A king-sized Ashley bedroom set.

The seller said she’d only owned it for about a month and was moving.

She wanted $2,500 for everything—the bedroom furniture and the living room furniture.

I only wanted the bedroom.

So I offered $1,500.

She said yes.

And that’s when I became convinced it probably wasn’t going to happen.

For the next twenty-four hours, every little thing made us question it.

Robert thought it might be a scam.

The listing only used Ashley Furniture’s stock photos, and before he was willing to hook up the trailer and drive across town, he wanted to see actual pictures of the furniture.

So he asked me to message her and ask for real photos.

I actually wasn’t worried about that.

I believed she had the furniture.

I was worried she’d walked back into her bedroom, looked around, and realized,

“Why am I selling this for only $1,500?”

She said she’d send pictures.

Then she didn’t.

She told me she’d be home around 5:30.

Then she messaged saying she wasn’t feeling well.

By then I’d already written the ending in my head.

I told her if she changed her mind she could let us know.

She replied that she wasn’t changing her mind.

Robert reminded me,

“You still need those real pictures.”

So I asked again.

She didn’t respond as quickly this time.

I texted Robert,

“She never texted back.”

“I’m heartbroken.”

He replied,

“I was afraid of that.”

Finally she messaged.

“I’ll be in town around three. I’ll send pictures then.”

A few hours later…

My phone buzzed.

The pictures were real.

The furniture was beautiful.

Robert immediately replied, “Wow.”

The furniture looked exactly like the Ashley photos.

Suddenly…

This thing I’d already started talking myself out of believing was actually happening.

That evening we hooked up the trailer and drove over.

Walking into the house, everything looked practically brand new.

As we loaded furniture, we started talking.

She shared that she was a widow who had recently started dating again. She believed she’d found someone to build a future with, so she rented a home in Arkansas and bought this bedroom furniture for the life she thought they were going to build together.

But life had other plans.

The relationship ended.

She decided to move back home to Tennessee.

Looking back, everything suddenly made sense.

When she’d first told me she’d be “home around 5:30,” I’d assumed she meant she was getting off work.

She wasn’t.

She’d already moved back to Tennessee.

She’d been planning to drive more than five hours back to Arkansas just to finish cleaning out the rental house.

When she told me she wasn’t feeling well…

She wasn’t backing out.

She simply wasn’t up to making a five-and-a-half-hour drive.

I had written an entire story in my head with only half the information.

Then she smiled and said,

“Oh… the adjustable base goes with it.”

I looked at Robert.

He looked at me.

Neither of us knew that was included.

If you’ve ever priced adjustable bases, you know they aren’t cheap.

Then, while we were loading everything, she remembered something else.

“Oh… I bought two extra mattress protectors. They’re still in the package. You can have those too.”

A minute later, she pointed toward the nightstands.

“Those lamps came with the bedroom set too.”

This was amazing. The dresser literally had the extra hardware attached to the back of it.

It seemed like every few minutes she’d remember something else that belonged with the bedroom.

One thing I’m especially glad I asked was whether Robert should bring tools.

She immediately said yes.

Ashley had assembled everything for her, so it wasn’t something she’d really thought about.

That one question probably saved us a lot of frustration.

If you’re buying furniture from Facebook Marketplace, don’t assume it’ll fit through the door assembled.

Ask first.

Bring tools.

Your future self will thank you.

Before we pulled away, I looked at her and said,

“This is going to be really well loved.”

And I meant it.

With four kids, there was no way we would’ve walked into Ashley Furniture and bought this set brand new.

What she no longer needed became an incredible blessing for our family.

At one point, Robert stood there looking at everything and simply said,

“You did a great job finding this”

If you know Robert…

That’s basically a standing ovation.

The funny part?

He almost talked me out of buying it.

He was exhausted.

Work had been unusually demanding.

We have a backyard renovation underway.

From his perspective, we already had a bedroom set that worked.

I remember telling him,

“We can’t keep saying we want a nicer bedroom and refuse to pay store cost, but then pass on the right bedroom set because it shows up at an inconvenient time. At some point, something has to give.”

Now he’s told me more than once,

“You were right.”

His favorite part?

The adjustable base.

I will say, Charlie and I like that feature, too…

I used to buy tons of support pillows to sit up comfortably in bed.

Now, I don’t have to.

And honestly, I had never heard of an adjustable base until we picked up the furniture.

Now? I don’t think I could ever not have an adjustable base.

Just a week earlier I’d been walking through Ashley Furniture looking at patio furniture.

One table.

A few chairs.

Four thousand dollars.

I could not. I would not.

Here we were loading an entire king bedroom setup—with the adjustable base, matching lamps, unopened accessories, and all the extras—for $1,500.

Buying everything new would’ve cost several thousand dollars more.

But honestly…

I am not sharing this to tell you about the furniture.

It’s about waiting.

It’s about not settling on what you really want.

Whether that’s your spouse, your coffee cups, or your bedroom set.

And when you do find what is just right, don’t write a negative ending before the ending comes.

And sometimes recognizing that the right opportunity doesn’t always show up at the right time.

Life had kept us from buying a matching bedroom for years.

Groceries.

Kids.

Basketball shoes.

Gymnastics.

Home projects.

There was always something more important.

Looking back…

I’m actually grateful we waited.

Because waiting made room for an opportunity we never could’ve planned.

Sometimes patience saves you money.

Sometimes patience gives you something better than you expected.

And sometimes…

A Facebook Marketplace deal turns into one of your favorite rooms in the house.

Also, the tension between Robert and I at the beginning of the transaction made me realize something about myself.

I will write about that next because it was a helpful insight when you are going against the grain with your person.

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If you’re shopping Facebook Marketplace…

• Ask for actual photos if the listing only uses stock images. Buyers want to see the condition before making the drive.
• Ask whether the furniture has already been disassembled. If not, bring tools.
• Don’t panic if a seller takes longer than expected to respond. There may be a story you don’t know.
• Don’t be afraid to negotiate respectfully.
• And if the right opportunity shows up at an inconvenient time… don’t automatically pass on it. Sometimes the inconvenience lasts one afternoon, but the reward lasts for years.

Author’s Note:
The recent tragedy at the youth camp in Texas has been sitting heavy on my heart. As I tried to process it, I found myself thinking about Sandy Hook—something I’ve carried quietly since 2012. I went back to my journal from that week, and this letter is what came from that space.

To this day, I still can’t listen to Hallelujah without tearing up. My family could tell you—it stops me in my tracks every time. That song became a thread connecting my grief to theirs, even though we’d never met.

This isn’t for attention. It’s for witness. For remembrance. For the children.
May we never stop remembering.

Dear Mom and Dad,

You don’t know me, and I feel a little silly writing you.
But I heard a song today, and it brought me back to a day that I know feels like both yesterday and a million years ago to you.

It was the kind of loss no one expects—
The kind of grief I’ve wondered for years how you survived.

On December 14, 2012, I was holding my seven-day-old baby boy.
I was in my black office chair,
A Boppy pillow on my lap,
Exhausted—trying to get a stubborn infant to latch.
I was scrolling Facebook on my computer when I saw it:
“Prayers for Sandy Hook.”

That’s when my heart took a new shape—
Because part of it broke.
And that piece—it silently floated to you.
And that part? It never returned.
It’s yours now.

Back then, there was an ocean between me and you—
But that didn’t stop the ache of knowing you,
In a way I wish I didn’t,
Without ever having met you.

I felt your last kiss goodbye.
Your rushed morning.
The goodbye you may have wished you could say—
If only you had known.

I watched the lights go out on the earth in front of me, too.
My heart broke thinking of the presents already wrapped under the tree,
And the ache of putting away a tree that would never grow up quite right again.

I held my baby tighter that morning.
A child in one hand, and grief for you in the other.

And that grief?
It took root deep in my soul.
It’s not something I want to excavate. Ever.

Maybe that’s why, on long nights—when my soul forgot to remind my patience—
I held onto the truth:
Even though his little cry was loud,
It was a cry that could still be heard.
And that wasn’t silence.

Silence is what screams.
Silence is what soaks the pillow all the way through.
No more pitter-patter of little feet down the hall.
No more, “Mommy, I drew this for you.”
The sound of laughter—once deafening—
Replaced by floorboard whispers.

I wondered if your heart broke a little more each day with each creak,
Each echo that used to be her.
Does the silence still speak—
Haunted by the shadow of a giggle?

Did the time alone that showed up so sparingly on December 13, 2012,
Walk into your life like an unwelcome guest you didn’t invite?
The one that makes the clock stop in the worst way—
And never leaves?

No backpack to empty anymore.
One less seat taken in that three-row SUV—
The one you bought when you found out you were expecting.
One less face you see through the mirror as you drive.

The heartbeat that used to sit back there and catch your smile of adoration,
Who would reciprocate like the loveliest unspoken language
You never had to learn to understand.

Days after that awful morning, the Voice coaches sang “Hallelujah.”
And from that moment on, your children’s gut-wrenching day became the meaning behind the lyrics for me.
To this day, I weep when that song plays.
I don’t care if I’m in a store, at the doctor’s office, or home—
Your children, and your pain, have never stopped being worthy of reverence and remembrance.

But I am torn.
I don’t know which type of grief steals the most breath:
The memory of a small face with the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen,
Or the missed goodbye?