Renters

“…the soul of the diligent is made fat.” - Pro. 13:4

I have been trying to rent an apartment these last few weeks. It is discouraging business. Not because there is no interest. On the contrary. One ad in the newspaper makes my phone ring for days. But then the dreary business begins. One showing after another introduces me to the flotsam and jetsam of human wreckage washing up on my little piece of shore. The stories unfold with sickening familiarity.

I hate to disparage my own sex, but far too many tales involve a delinquent father who has abandoned his wife and child or has left some woman shipwrecked with ruined credit and bankruptcy. But, yes, occasionally I will encounter a middle aged dad trying to raise up young children by himself for loss of a wife for one reason or another. The result is the same: a single parent trying to start over, a homeowner reduced to a tenant, and pleas for mercy in the face of ruined credit. I take phone calls and when they tell me they just went through a nasty divorce or somebody abandoned the family I tell them that makes me mad. I am not sure how that comes across on the other end of the phone from a perfect stranger, but someone should be upset. I figure they get enough people telling them that they are probably better off and that everything will be okay. No, someone should be angry at the resulting ruin.

And then there are the fools. This Christian(?) lady was “living with” a former addict who went back on his drugs and now she was set adrift with ruined credit. I was heartless. I reminded her in so many words that she had asked for it. She agreed. And how about the woman who wanted an apartment for herself, her husband, her daughter and fiancée, and a dog? She worried about the dog being a problem. She seemed shocked that the unmarried daughter and fiancée was more of a problem than the dog. No clue.

I have come to take great boldness of late with the unmarrieds after being advised of my rights as a landlord. A sweet and fresh young voice informed me that she and her fiancé were looking for a place to rent. I told her that as soon as they get married I would be glad to talk with them. I am always assured that they are planning on it soon. I offer to get them a preacher and a cake. Well, not that soon. A young man called for a place for his girlfriend and their child. I explained my belief in marriage and told him that his little girl needs a dad, a legal one, and that this wonderful girlfriend deserves a commitment. I can’t believe I am preaching to these phone-ins. Somehow, he was not angry. I am angry at the loss of shame in our society; and angry that after dozens of offers, no one has taken me up on a free wedding.

Then there are the married folk who look good in person and on paper but whose credit check reads like a police blotter with accounts in collections, deceitful references, bankruptcies, repossessions and $6000 in abandoned credit card debt. Why did they even bother? The stories of bad luck do not reconcile with defaults on cable TV bills, prolific smoking habits, or the fancy sports car they drive up in.

In comparison, I feel almost guilty in my affluence and secure relationships. But the House of Nordmoe was not given or inherited or won in some fluke of luck. It was built over a lifetime, mainly by honoring the promises we made as a young couple. We were not the beautiful or the well-connected. It was a story of simple God-inspired diligence. Real, steadfast lives don’t “just happen.” They are built, brick upon brick, stone upon stone, precept upon precept, until the “fatness” comes. There is no substitute for diligence, no shortcut to a secure and stable home. And if you are presently experiencing blood, sweat, and tears, you are probably on the right course. Faint not for in due season you shall reap.