Faith, Floors, and Fresh Starts: The Risk That Made All the Difference

I’m six months pregnant with my first child, standing in the kitchen of my little 1800-square-foot house on five acres in Georgia. I stare at the old carpet, which is covered with stains and nasty germs. I imagine my beautiful baby crawling on this, and I shudder.

Over the years, the carpet has just gotten worse and worse. So many roommates have come through this place, and with them their cats and dogs and puppies. Pet vomit stains, pee stains, and other stains haunt my mind.

The final assault to this already disgusting carpet of biowaste was when we returned from a two-week trip to Greece last month. We entrusted one of our roommates to watch our two dogs and two cats while we were gone. We came home to a scene from TLC Pet Hoarders to find endless trails of urine and poop from everything that lived there. We were furious. Our roommate had decided to move out while we were gone and only came over to feed the animals. It was utterly horrific.

After we cleaned everything up, we went to Kroger and rented their carpet shampooer. We spent all afternoon shampooing our carpets. We couldn't afford a professional cleaning, so this was our best effort as a young couple expecting our first baby.

At first, it looked like all our problems were solved. We let out a big sigh of relief as all the nasty stains disappeared. We felt naively jubilant about our 30-dollar investment. But within days, the stains slowly started to reemerge. Along with the stains, the familiar stench of dog urine returned.

My heart sinks at the inevitable foul petri dish of germs developing below my feet. This carpet is a lost cause.

We have zero money saved. We bought all of our baby things secondhand and have only been working independently as full-time artists for less than a year. Money is okay, but there is nothing extra. We just saved for our trip to Greece and spent everything we saved. To recarpet the whole house downstairs would cost around $2,000. I just can't see a way to make this happen anytime soon. But I can’t stand one more minute of the smell or the thought of what we are living with.

Breaking Point

I have been reading a bunch of success books and listening to inspirational talks about people who succeeded from nothing. I can see a common thread among them: They were proactive and took risks. They didn't wait for things to fall into their laps. They didn't wait until conditions were perfect to make a move.

I listened to a story of a man who had started a business while still working his job full-time. He had small children and a wife to take care of and didn't want his wife to go back to work. He tried month after month to earn enough from his new business to be able to quit his job. He felt like the time he was putting into his job was stealing from the time he could work on his business, but there were no assurances that the new business could sustain them.

I listened to his heart and his determination. He said that he realized he had to remove his safety net. He had to remove all his options except the one to make his business successful. He walked into work and gave his two weeks’ notice. He told his wife and could see the worry in her face as she gave him her support.

Letting go of the safety is what pushed him to work with urgency. From that month on, his business brought him the money he needed. After several months, he had doubled his income, and then tripled it. He had no other option but to be successful with his business, or his children wouldn't eat.

Standing in my kitchen, looking at the pee-stained floor, I make a decision. I get a utility knife from my studio and start slicing through the carpet. I find a corner and begin pulling it up as it unearths horrific fumes and dust. I go to John and tell him, “I’m ripping out the carpet. Can you please help me?”

“What?! How are we going to replace it? We won't have a floor to live on.” John is upset.

“I don’t care. If we live on plywood, then it will motivate us to do something about it. I can't stand one more second of the pee. It has to go into the dumpster!” I am determined.

John finishes the job of ripping out all of the carpet and nasty blue padding underneath to reveal relatively clean and odor-free plywood under it all. I feel so much better. Getting all that carpet out of the house feels like throwing away a whole old chapter in my life. No more roommates, being constantly broke, parties, pets peeing, or gross throw-up. It’s a fresh new beginning of John and me being a family. Soon, our baby will be here and have a fresh new carpet to crawl on.

No Turning Back

It’s about three weeks before my due date, and we still live on plywood. Every time a friend comes over and looks at our floor, I explain we are in the process of getting new carpet. I tell my friends that we are trying to save up for it. But the truth is that every time I manage to save a couple hundred dollars, something breaks, or the car gets a flat tire. I just can't make it happen. Our baby is going to be born any minute, and I’m desperate.

All of my instincts and nesting impulses dominate my every thought. I see a yellow pages phone book by the phone and open it to carpet installers. I see a small ad for a company advertising “New floor, new beginning” and give them a call. They quote me $1,500 for a complete install of berber carpet. They say they can come the following day and finish the job in just a couple of hours. I look at my plywood floor that I have lived on for months now and imagine coming home from the hospital to that.

I make the appointment.

I don't have the money. I only have about $700 after bills. I’m short $800.

How can I get $800 by noon tomorrow? I don't have a credit card, and getting one in time isn't possible. I think about getting a loan from my bank, but it would take days to process. I keep thumbing through the yellow pages and land on “Loans.” I see many companies advertising “same-day loans.” I’m not sure if they will lend $800 to John and me as self-employed artists, but it’s worth a try.

I drive to the nearest same-day loan center, fill out all their paperwork, and wait. Within less than ten minutes, they tell me I can get the loan interest-free for six months, but then my interest will be 23 percent on what remains. I believe I can easily pay this off over the next six months, so I sign. I walk out with a cashier’s check for $800, feeling elated. My days of living on plywood floors are over!

The next day, the crew comes and puts a fresh pad down, along with our new cream-colored berber carpet. The whole house feels fresh and new. I’m ecstatic. As soon as the crew leaves, I lie on my pristine carpet and make snow angels in pure bliss with my enormous baby belly. John watches, not quite aware of all that I’m going through.

Sure, he didn't love the nasty old pee carpet and thought it was gross. He was cool with ripping it out, and I’m sure he didn't want to live on plywood floors forever. But it was different from how I felt. I was completely consumed for more than four months about the floors. It was all I thought about. That old carpet felt like my old self. Like some kind of filthy, stained, ragged, disgusting, germ-infested dark past that soured everything around it. I’m not that person anymore. I’ve changed. I have reconnected with God and can look brightly into my future with John and my first child.

The Power of a Single Step

I’m actively building my life as an artist and focused on all that will benefit me. I’ve changed my friends and started reading books that taught me habits that will help me become successful. I’ve turned away from negativity, partying, and looking at John through my dad’s eyes. I only speak words that bring empowerment and life to those around me. I am truly different now, and I know I will never go back. My heart has changed. That old carpet was the last thing to leave, and now my house is brand new.

Replacing that carpet made me realize that nothing happens without taking a step of faith. We must walk blind before we can see. Our first step into the unknown is like walking in the dark. As you keep moving forward in trust, the room becomes brighter, and all that is in front you begins to materialize. Finally, all that you hoped for is in your hands. Faith is a commodity. It is a substance, and once you possess it, it begins to facilitate a manifestation of what you once only hoped for.

Faith As a Way of Life

Walking in the dark becomes a new pattern in my life. I stepped out in faith when I quit my job and became a self-employed artist. I stepped out in faith when I decided to start a family. Ripping out my floors was another step in faith that propelled my actions. I’ve lived by this principle most of my life since that new berber carpet. I said yes before I had the resources. I started before I was ready. And I committed before I knew the way. As the years passed, I continued to do this, but the stakes have just gotten higher, and the risks greater, as my faith continues to stretch. This faith walk has become a lifestyle.

I shudder to think what my life would have been like if I had played it safe, waited until every condition was perfect, calculated my risks, and only moved forward when the road was clear and marked. If I could do it all in my own strength, my life would have been small and manageable. But the sweetest fruit lives at the end of the tree limbs. The grand adventure of a rewarding life requires faith.

And I’m grateful that God has always been there to honor my faith.

Have you ever taken a leap of faith before you felt ready? What happened next?

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