Most BYU students are idealistic about marriage. They see it as a happy haven, far removed from the hazards of single life. Such minutiae as a house to live in and employment and the daily living routine are not included in the dating dreams of singles.
When Julie and I became engaged, we had no idea where we were to live. We had three months from the day we were engaged to the day of our marriage. Homes and apartments were hard to come by. BYU married student housing had a six month wait list.
My brother had married not long before. He and his wife were looking for a home. As Julie and I planned for marriage, we considered with Richard and Heidi the possibility of buying a home together.
The challenge was finding a home within the price range that we could afford, even with combined incomes, which could accommodate both families. We looked, or more correctly, Richard and Heidi looked, and we checked out some key properties with them.
We found one. It was much farther away from BYU than we anticipated. It was a split level with an unfinished basement. Full of the confidence of youth, my brother and I saw no problem being able to finish it.
First, we had to buy the house. The loan was more complex than normal. I’m not certain of the exact wording, but each of us was something like co-owners in joint, and all of our incomes contributed to our qualification for the loan. The loan company added together what we earned, the legal relationships defined, the papers signed, and we could move in. And with the timing that the Lord has applied again and again in my life, the home was available for moving in the week before we were married. Thus, the housing problem was solved. As a newlywed couple, we were enjoying the master bedroom of a home in a nice neighborhood, acquiring equity for less than we would pay in rent.
We spent our honeymoon, not in a condo or a hotel, but moving into our home with my brother and his wife.
There is a second and a third chapter to this story.
The second chapter has to do with two pregnant wives and an unfinished basement. Julie and I had lived in the master bedroom in the house at 19 E 1775 N Orem for nearly a year when we decided to start a family. Apparently, not long after, my brother and his wife decided to add to theirs – Heidi had two children from a previous marriage. The challenge was that Richard and I had not finished the basement. When the two babies would finally arrive, we would have 8 people in 3 bedrooms. Our wives clarified their expectations. They wanted the basement completed so that Julie and I could move down there.
This, as most things, was easier to determine than to do. My brother and I were both working to support our families and had only marginal amounts of time to spend. More importantly, we were somewhat unfamiliar with the exact details of the work required. Richard knew electricity, since he had specialized in that in high school, and had almost become a journeyman. I had done some piping in the labs at work, and did have a degree in Chemical Engineering. How to frame, or mount wallboard, or mud, or install plumbing and cabinetry were not total mysteries, but certainly had depths yet unknown to us.
The difficulties were increased since my brother and I had different working styles. Richard charges into a task, puts whatever needs to be put together, and then, when needed, putting it together again, or making it work somehow. On the other hand, I try to have everything figured out before starting, and delay starting, think about it some more, and perhaps secretly hope that someone else would start and finish it. Between us, progress, and brotherly relations, did not proceed smoothly.
However, babies do not wait for basements to be finished. Nine months go by and babies come. Our eldest son, Jacob, was born June 25, 1984. The basement was not finished. Nor was it finished two, three or four months later. Bit by bit, the work progressed. Richard would become fatigued with my painstaking attitude and deliberate pace. He would drop off the job, but would return, presumably encouraged by his conscience and his expectant wife. I believe we finally finished after Christmas, maybe January. But we did finish.
What a wonderful opportunity for Julie and I. Our own place, our own home, so to speak, made to our specifications. It became a haven for us and our growing family. It was truly a blessing.
Especially since school went on much longer that planned and expected. My PhD was transformed in to a MS program, the MS program completed, and a PhD undertaken again. Schooling stretched from a few short years to an endless vista. Julie and I had agreed to have her leave her teaching position and stay at home after the birth of Jacob. But my sole, small, student assistant income was barely sufficient to cover our needs.
Our home provided not only shelter, but income. As school began to stretch on, my brother and his wife wanted to explore the owning of the entire house. Heidi had graduated and obtained a job as a programmer at WordPerfect, and was earning fairly good money. With this additional income, as well as knowing of our need, they offered to buy out our portion of the home. Basically, they let us live without paying our usual half of our house payment until our equity had been purchased.
What a timely blessing. A second child had arrived and we could pay for the increased expenses. A third child was on the way. The basement home had seen the foundation of our family and sheltered us in our early growth, and granted us warmth and welcome. My wife and I made important strides as a couple and as individuals there. We had chances to serve in a smaller but vibrant ward where everyone was used and needed. These experiences, as well as the relationship we developed with Richard and Heidi, have been important to later lives.
But I still had not finished my education, and yet our equity in the home was soon to be bought out. This is where the third part of the story starts. Just as our third son was born, my wife’s grandmothers house was opened for occupancy. Julie’s “little” grandma was a wonderful women, with a cheerful heart and an instant smile. She listened intently to whatever was said, saying “Oh my!”, “You don’t say!”, and “Heavenly days” to encourage the conversation, even though mostly deaf and unable to hear most of the words that were said. Julie’s brother Alan and his wife had been taking care of little grandma and her home, but she passed away, and Alan and Rhonda left Provo to go to dental school in Omaha. Julie’s father needed someone to take care of the home. The housing market was depressed in Provo and the home was worth more to the family as a home for us, than to be sold for a pittance on the market.
So we stayed in the home for a truly nominal amount of rent. Julie’s father could have earned much more in rent from someone else. But for a mere $100 a month, later $200, we had a home for our family that continued to grow. McKenna, Adams, and N’Krysta were born there. Julie served as Primary President, I served in the Stake High Council and in the Bishopric. We stayed and grew in that gift of the home until Pratt called and our family moved away from Utah.
Homes are where the hearts are, and the Lord provides us homes as they are needed.
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