Tag: Converted Church

Real DIYers don’t shy away from rotted belfries

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: A cursory inspection reveals the roof of the belfry in the church we planned to buy was in terrible, possibly dangerous condition.

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stairs
Stairway to heaven? These were the exterior stairs Tyler described using to repair the belfry.

Initially, in the privacy of our bed in the early morning hours as we dreamed of our church, Tyler cooked up the idea that he could use the emergency stairs that were attached to a different side of the house to repair the belfry himself. He described in alarming detail how he could move the stairway around the building, climb up twenty-five feet, deconstruct the belfry piece by piece around the bell and rebuild the roof.

In November.

I forced him to recount his brilliant plan in excruciating detail to both of our children in the hopes that they would dissuade him of such lunacy (again with the crazy!).

The light of day and after the encounter with Stan the mummified squirrel when Tyler had gotten a good look at the damage, he realized we needed to get professionals involved.

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Tomorrow: A mummified squirrel is nothing compared to the terror of a quote on belfry repair. Read it here.

 

Tools required to check for rot in a belfry: Haz-mat suit and courage

Monica Lee3 Comments

Our story so far: The seller of the church we wanted to buy and convert into our house disclosed the belfry was “rooted.”

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On our third showing of the church, which occurred while we were still waiting for the title to clear and we talked our real estate agent into letting us in again despite the prospect of the tiny commission, my enterprising husband packed a hazardous materials suit, goggles, a face mask and a big flashlight. Oh, and a hammer.

He donned his apparel—what a dashing figure, not too unlike the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man—and climbed a step-ladder in the closet on the second floor that led to the belfry. A couple of whacks at the trap door, and he was inside.

daylight in the belfry
Here’s what the inside of a very old belfry looks like. That bright light in the center of the picture? Daylight shining through the roof beneath the bell.

Unfortunately, he could see the sky. Coffee-can sized holes dotted the perimeter of the roof around the bell. On days with worse weather, rain was probably pouring into those holes. And who knows what else!

Well, we found out what else.

Stan
Here’s what a very mummified squirrel looks like.

Stan the squirrel.

The mummified and dust-covered rodent’s wide-open mouth betrayed the terror he must have felt in his last moments.

The real estate agent and I were standing along the far wall while Tyler poked around. We had no interest in coming face to face with a bat.

Tyler found Stan. But he didn’t find any bats.

Oh, joy! We didn’t have bats in our belfry after all! (I told that joke ad nauseam for days afterward. And I’m not promising I won’t use it again.)

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Tomorrow: Tyler cooks up a plan to repair the belfry. Read it here.

Was I the angel on his shoulder? Or a devil?

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: Everyone thought we were crazy to renovate such an old structure, let alone a church, into our home.

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I spent a little time talking Tyler into rehabbing a church.

“This is the only way to get what we really want. Otherwise, we’re just buying someone else’s foolhardy decorating decisions.”

“Imagine how awesome our great room will be. We can buy an 18-foot tall Christmas tree. Our children will love it!”

“It’ll be a great workout. Why buy a membership to a gym when we can work out in our own house?”

“We’ll never find a property so cheap. Heck, even the land itself is worth what we’re paying.”

“We can get this done without a mortgage. It’ll be all ours in two years!”

Honestly, that’s all it took to convince Tyler. He liked challenges. In the business world, I called him the dragon slayer because the bigger the account, the more hair on it, the more he liked it. Big risks reaped big rewards.

Plus he wanted to please me. He’s a great husband like that.

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Tomorrow: Buying a church spooks some naysayers. Click here to read.

We’re committed. Or we oughta be

Monica Lee3 Comments

Our story so far: A 126-year-old church for sale is the right location for the right price at the mostly right time.

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When we told people we were buying a church, sometimes they reacted with envy. “Oh, that sounds like an absolute dream!”

Sometimes they reacted with horror. “Why would you want to live in a church?”

Whether they verbalized it or not, everyone thought we were crazy. “Sounds interesting. Good luck.”

“Interesting” was the Minnesota Nice way of saying “scarier than three feet of wet snow on Oct. 30 when the snow blower’s broken.” Even if they didn’t say “interesting,” I could see in their eyes they thought we were crazy.

We were a couple in our 50s who were enjoying a second marriage. Which is to say, we had already thrown a couple of partners to the curb for various infractions. If a remodeling project was capable of breaking up other marriages, ours was not immune. And maybe we weren’t up to the task physically. Tyler had tackled a similar whole-house remodeling project decades earlier, and he triumphed with a palatial result. But he wasn’t 20something anymore and not all of his body parts were natural. And I had never been able to lift more than 30 pounds at a time. Our joints crackled like crisped rice cereal and our butts had spread like so much peanut butter.

Of course, besides the collateral damage to our relationship and our bodies, there was the financial risk. What if there were termites? What if the foundation was cracked? What if the wiring was so ancient it would have to be completely updated? These sorts of dilemmas cost money. A lot of money.

Maybe we were crazy.

But I didn’t think so.

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Tomorrow: How I talked my husband into buying me a church. Click here to read.