This is enough.

I just took a hot shower, ate an apple with cookie butter for my 9 pm dinner and threw Les Miserables on the tube while sitting down to look at pictures and blog my brains out. I've had a little bit of writer's block of late, or maybe writer's apathy is more like it, but I just took a hot shower and that needs to be blogged about, you know what I'm saying?

Probably not. Let me explain.

Have I mentioned our apartment's water situation? We're coming up on our ten month anniversary of living in this apartment and last week I took my first hot shower. Turns out testing the water temperature that flows from your sink should definitely be on your to-do list before signing a lease agreement, but turns out that it wasn't on ours (not that we saw this place in the flesh before signing said agreement, but for future reference). For the last ten months we have had to run our water for 20 to 30 minutes in order for it to produce warm-ish water. Talmage would cry real tears about how we're in a drought and this was horrible for the environment but, you know, he would also cry real tears when we had him take an ice cold shower without running the water for an extended period of time...so let's just say it's been a lose-lose. The owners of our condo and the HOA leadership have been in a tennis match, each serving the responsibility to the other team and you know who were the ones really losing here? Me. And James. And my babies. It's been stressful.

In fact, just last week I sat down and wrote a lengthy blog post entitled, "This is it?" My main gripe was the water, but there were others. My buzzer doesn't buzz. The refrigerator barely keeps our cheese chilled and the washing machine smells musty. Sure the disgusting couch by the dumpster vacated our alley in a heated brawl between our local homeless neighbors and someone (who was that anyway?) but now there's a box spring by the dumpster. By the dumpster. You know, the one that is right under every single window in my apartment. Our homeless homies can now lie down and drink their alcohol, scream and cuss at the blank space in front of them (or sometimes me and the kids) and fight through the night over the right to sleep on that abandoned bed. I wrote about how I can easily find myself looking around at our life and living situation and thinking, "Really? This is it? This is the best we can do?"

But I pressed save on that post instead of publish, and now it almost seems silly because so much has changed around here in such a short span of time. I don't know who buckled under pressure, but the owners and the HOA finally saw eye to eye and with a little twist of a plumber's wrench (and a new pump installed to the water heater in the basement) we have perfectly hot water pouring through our nozzle within seconds of turning the knob. Don't think I didn't cry the most grateful tears when I took my first few hot showers because I definitely did. And don't think I didn't hug the plumber when I saw him a few days later because I just about kissed him! It's amazing what a hot shower can do for the soul, not to mention the stink!

It wasn't only that, although that's enough for me to sing praises, but I really think that Heavenly Father has had his hand on our life this last week, just in the silly little living condition details. You see, this place is financially the best we can do at the moment. Sure, we're making more than we've ever made but we have student loans to pay, a commitment to tithe, and West LA rent is through the roof. James found a few darling cottages that we loved and felt strongly like we should pursue, but with high sticker prices and the owner's non-interest in negotiation we were left heartsick. It's hard not to feel a little hopeless when you're paying nearly $3,000 a month in rent and can't even wash your hands with hot soapy water. But then out of no where we were the lucky recipients of hot water. And the owner decided to bite the bullet and fix our buzzer, which should be installed by the end of the week. (No more running frantically down the stairs in fear of missing a delivery! For a city dweller, this is big!) Also the dumpster mattress went the way of the dumpster couch, and a few days ago we noticed that our most belligerent homeless neighbor has given us a few days off from his middle of the night cussing sessions.

This may not seem like such a big deal to anyone else, but to me it is major. It's as if Heavenly Father is telling me, "No, I'm not going to produce the miracle of a charming new home that you asked for, but I will produce a miracle and make this has-been-sub-par apartment a comfortable place for your family to live and grow." I'm looking at this apartment transform before my eyes and the words that keep coming to my mind are, "This is enough." And it is.

This place might be small and it's all but glamorous, but it is overflowing with love and in a couple short weeks it will be the place we welcome our last Wiggy addition, swaddled in pink, home from the hospital. A warm bath, three adoring siblings and some tetras magic in her new shared room will be waiting for her. That, I know, is enough.