A funny thing happens when you buy a house after a decade-and-a-half of living in rented apartments: you begin to care about where you live.

I’m not talking about location, or pool size, or neighbor attractiveness quotients. I’m talking about the bricks-and-mortar construction that has become your home. All of a sudden, a scuff mark on the wall is a bigger deal. A leaky faucet is a Real Problem. And cleaning is even more of a priority.

The Husband and I bought our house six months ago, and we’re still growing into it. We apparently displaced some cockroach families when we moved in, and I love it when TH tiptoes downstairs first thing in the morning–while the lights are off and the blinds closed–and tries to sneak-attack these creatures and sign their community death certificate. Much like wives feel when they see their husbands hold their baby for the first time, I feel warm all over when TH advances on insects with a shoe in his hand, or sets up the sprinklers out in the yard. It makes me feel taken care of, protected. (Even if he still leaves crumbs.)

This week we had the double fortune of an overflowing washing machine and a leaking toilet. Within hours of each other. TH and I were still on the same team by the end of it all, but it’s amazing how issues like human trafficking and genocide can take a backseat to domestic disturbances when you can’t call the maintenance man to come fix everything. We’re here to stay, and so we are the maintenance men. I’m rarely comfortable with bucks that stop with me.

As I drove to work after discovering the toilet issue I felt my day had already unraveled by 8 am. I envisioned a flooded second floor filled with dancing roaches upon my return home that evening. My shoulders took their position of anxiety right beside my ears, my heart rate increased, and my old friend Worry offered to take the driver’s seat.

And then a funny thing happened: I told Worry to suck it.

Okay, maybe it didn’t go quite that brazenly. But I did choose to pray instead of fear, and because the best part of prayer is listening, I heard the relevant question pierce my heart: Which will you let be bigger today? A leaky toilet or my protection? And I remembered that home can be both a work in progress and a shelter from the storm, even when it’s leaking, because it’s held in bigger hands than mine.