Second Growth 001: How We Got Here | A Bent But True Documentary

How We Got Here

Last week our offer on a house was accepted.

If everything goes according to plan, we’ll have the keys in a few weeks. There are still inspections to complete, papers to sign, and plenty of opportunities for life to remind us that nothing is certain until it’s finished.

But today felt like the right day to begin. Not because we have a house, but because every story has to start somewhere.

Tracy and I met in college more than thirty years ago. I started a little later than most, and like most young couples, we imagined life would unfold in a fairly predictable way. We’d finish school, build careers, raise a family, and settle into whatever “normal” was supposed to look like.

Instead, we built a life one unexpected chapter at a time.

We served in ministry for years, raised three amazing kids, and moved more times than we ever planned. Every move came with the hope that maybe this would be the place where life finally settled down.

Sometimes it did.

Sometimes it didn’t.

Eventually we landed in St. Peters, Missouri, where I spent nearly ten years working in collections. By the end of that chapter, I was falling apart. We packed everything we owned and moved to Mukilteo, Washington, believing a fresh start would be enough.

It wasn’t.

Not long after we arrived, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, a diagnosis that years later would prove to be wrong. For the next ten years I lived under that diagnosis. Medication after medication slowly pulled me further away from the person I had been. Looking back, those years feel less like living and more like watching life happen from the other side of a window.

Through all of it, Tracy carried us.

She worked, believed in me when I struggled to believe in myself, and somehow found the strength to keep our family moving forward one day at a time. I don’t think either of us imagined that season would last as long as it did, but somehow we made it through together.

After my mom passed away, I began working with my doctors to come off the medications. It felt like waking up after a very long sleep.

Then life interrupted again.

A few months later, Tracy’s mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

We packed everything once more and moved back to Missouri so we could help care for her. For the next two years our lives revolved around family, hospitals, and making the most of the time we had left together.

When she passed away, we found ourselves asking a question that probably visits all of us sooner or later.

What’s next?

That question brought us back to Washington. Tracy accepted a position in Port Angeles, and we moved to the Olympic Peninsula, a place that has quickly started to feel like home to both of us.

Then we found this house.

It’s not perfect.

In fact, that’s one of the things we love about it.

I’ve always been drawn to things that have been overlooked. Much of my writing has been about people who felt forgotten or unseen. Somewhere along the way I realized I feel the same way about places. I love the idea of taking something that’s been neglected, caring for it well, and helping it become what it was always capable of being.

We want to create spaces that invite people to live differently. A great room that makes you want to gather with family. A quiet library where you can close the door and disappear into a good book. A backyard where Jax can run safely. A home that feels connected to the forests just beyond its windows.

We don’t know how long we’ll be here.

Maybe five years.

Maybe longer.

Life has taught us not to make too many predictions.

What we do know is that, for however long this house is part of our story, we want to leave it better than we found it.

That’s really what this project is about.

Every week we’ll share part of the journey. Not just what we built, but what we learned while building it. Some lessons will come from paint and lumber. Others will come from conversations, mistakes, unexpected detours, and the quiet realization that creating a home has very little to do with perfection and everything to do with care.

Our offer was accepted today.

The keys are still a few weeks away.

But I think stewardship begins long before you unlock the front door.

It begins the moment you decide something is worth caring for.

This week's lesson: Stewardship begins before ownership.