Not too many pastors can admit to living with their in-laws. And this is not like Simon Peter who took his widowed mother-in-law into his home (Mk 1:29-30). My wife's parents are housing us; we're the recipients of their hospitality, not vice versa.
Because we were expecting our second child within two months of our move, we wanted to make the transition as smooth (and cheap) as possible. Our plan, then, was to take time finding the right house, without feeling rushed. This way we could be prayerful and strategic with its placement, and gradual in learning the language of homeownership.
The plan had its downsides. First, living with your in-laws means the home is not yours. And as much liberty as they gave us to invite people from the church over, my wife felt considerably juvenile asking, "Do you want to come to my parents house to play?"
Second, house-hunting is dangerous, especially every time we were in the car. The greater Warsaw area is not huge, but properties are aplenty. Virtually every time we drove from hither to thither (which means Winona Lake to Wal-mart), the car was sidelined by For Sale signs. RE/MAX, Coldwell Banker, and Century Twenty One became our traffic signals.
Third, we learn best by doing. So we put an offer on the first house we toured. Strategy and prayer were involved, but mainly we loved the house. It's inviting, cute, well-situated, feasible, and my wife wanted it more than a vacation with me.