But as God has distributed
to each one,
as the Lord has called
so let him walk.
~ 1 Cor. 7:17 (NKJV)
We are moving. Again.
It’s hard to fathom the constant state of flux my family has been in for the past couple of years. Massive lay-offs. A job relocation. An almost yearlong separation. One cat pee mess of a rental house. Followed by one lovely rental house.
And finally, just three months ago, we bought just the right home and property; it suits our family and our critters just fine.
I am re-packing the barely unpacked boxes. I am sorting. I am tossing. I am donating. I am wondering why my family has so much stuff.
I am also wondering why someone who craves roots and history and strong family ties and living on the same land as previous generations, has been living a life much akin to that of a gypsy.
When push comes to shove, it’s all about family. It’s about the here and now family. Not the days gone by family. It’s about my husband and our son.
Mainly, it’s about God as our Father.
He has opened doors so we shall follow.
Despite the pain and strain of a separation and yet another house sale in a muddy market, we shall follow where He leads.
Someone once had the sensitivity of a porcupine as she told me, “Well, I never. I never could allow my family to be separated. I never. I never could spend one night away from my husband.”
Then she slowly shook her head back and forth, pursed-up her lips like she’d just sucked a lemon, and looked up through lowered lashes. You know what I’m talking about. She looked at me in disgust.
My family. We seek God. We follow Him.
When we ask for doors to open, do we dare not to step through? I think not.
I like routine. I like normalcy. I like unpacked boxes. Really, I do. I want to feel comfortable in a home I call my own.
Don’t we all?
It is not in my genetic make-up to be a vagabond. I’ve always wanted…
to swing from the same tree, to wade in the same creek, to plant in the same dirt, to walk the same halls, to gaze upon the same sunset horizon, to hold the same doorknobs
as those before me in my Montana lineage, all in the farmhouse my grandpa built on homesteaded land.
God has different plans.
He is busy showing me, teaching me, leading me,
along the paths that lead to Him.
Paths that crest upon a mountaintop follow trails that are sometimes steep, sometimes rocky. The summit is where one catches her breath.
And looks around.
Where one knows…
that her earthly home is just a roof and walls.
If anyone would like to speak sass to me and/or look at me through lowered lashes, go on, go on. I mean go on and do it already.
Whatever makes you feel better,
good. I’ll even give ya a lemon of your very own.
(But then I’ll pray for you,
cause you’ve missed the point in all of your scorekeeping about what a perfect family situation looks like.)
This time, instead of biting my lip and looking away,I reckon I’ll say…
“I’ve got news for you, my friend. Between boxes and red duct tape and markers
and real estate transactions, my boys and I,
well, we are wrapped in Our Heavenly Father’s Love.
And there ain’t no place we’d rather be.”
Please join my family in thanking God and praising Him for how He is going to bless our family as we sell this home and move, yet again. Thank Him! Praise Him! We are eagerly awaiting,in hopeful anticipation,and with hearts bursting of thanksgiving of how He will continue to bless and guide us.
That’s the way one ought to live. And pray.
And if you fancy the back story of our relocation saga, just search “relocation” in that nifty little search box. I don’t have the time or patience to link all the stories for ya. I’ve got folks coming by this morning to help us get ready for selling this beautiful home. So, I gotta go get out of my pj’s and into my jeans.