The day before our house engulfed in those destructive flames, my sweet colleagues brought us dinner. We enjoyed our time chatting in my living room and catching up on all that I had missed happening at school. I showed them around our home and ahhed over my baby's nursery and my oldest daughter's big girl room. I loved our home, but we knew it wouldn't be our forever home. We like our 'stuff' and the house seemed to have shrunk twice it size since bringing home another little body to fill the space. We were standing at the front door when I said we planned to stay a few more years, but I wanted a new, slightly larger home.
I sat in the floor of my daughter's room, ripping price tags off everything I was putting in its proper place. My words haunted me. I wanted to move. I wanted to move to this neighborhood. I told them that as they were leaving the home that I now so badly longed for. This was definitely not the way I wanted to get here, though.
Six months after we moved in, I begged my husband for us to sell. My feet were so tired of silently marching up the stairs at night to our daughters' rooms. I feared our youngest would soon start crawling and tumble down the stairs. Our bedroom was tucked away, a long-haul from our room to theirs'. It was not like our old home, where we were all within steps of each other. The house had no sense of home. Nothing in it felt ours. A traditional southern style gal was propped up in a European/Tuscan style home. Of course, we could not sell, we had not been in the home long enough.
Fast forward nearly three years and several birthday parties and holidays later, we decided it was time to move on from the house that never felt like home. We began cleaning out and were stunned by all the things we had accumulated in less than three years. I picked up pieces and vividly remembered the kind and selfless community members that donated to us. Good stuff, too. Like the rocking chair that soothed my baby to sleep and cradled us as I read, Llama Llama, hundreds of times. My little girl's 'night night blankie', that we do not leave home without. That too, was donated by one of God's precious servants. And I am grateful every time I see her snuggle up with it at night. Finally the house was ready, the pictures were taken, and the listing was a few clicks away from MLS.
That's when God emailed me. He knows all, and I am sure He is very well aware that I am not good at hearing Him sometimes. My voice of I want drowns out His Will for me. So, He seeks other, more obvious ways of reaching me, like through my pastor's sermons or my daily email devotions. Love the Home You Have appeared in big black bold letters on my screen that morning. I immediately clicked on the devotion, already refusing to believe this devotion was for me. I want a new house. My family needs a new house. A home. Of course, with all the signs like the buyer's market, several homes already for sale in our area, and the conviction email, I pressed on with the decision to sell.
On the day of the second showing, I received another devotion email titled, "Not Another Rejection Letter". Sermons and quiet time with God kept whispering to be content in all that He has provided for me. We continued on this path for several months. Each time we would have a showing, I would storm around the house, frustrated and ready to jerk the sign out of the yard and throw it at the next person that would waste my time by coming to look, only to leave the remark they didn't want stairs.
Finally, on the day of yet another showing, my husband told me he was ready to take the house off the market. I surprisingly agreed. When I want something, I tend to want it right then. And this time, it was not working out for me. It was out of my control. A strange sense of contentment came over me as I walked around our spotless, show-ready home. In the quiet house, I could hear the laughter of our girls, the conversations that happened around my dining room table, the birthday song, the hide-and-go seek games. I could see the Christmas tree with presents sprouting from every side and the pumpkin seeds splattered all over the kitchen. I could see the wet foot prints from our summer pool days marking the path to the restroom. God, You blessed me with this home and all the people and things that fill it. Your poetic stories have etched their way into every carpet stain and marks on the walls. These memories could be made anywhere, and Lord, You allowed them to happen here, to me. I am undeserving of this, and yet I have been so ungrateful.. My wants have completely blinded Your beautiful wills for me.
When we seek what is not His Will it blinds us of all the beautiful gifts that we have been blessed with and shields us from seeking His will for our lives. I was so consumed by what I wanted, that I lost sight of all the gifts God has allowed to happen in my life and all the signs and whispers of , not now, My child. I know one day we will move on from this home. But for now, I know God begs of me to seek Him. To be content, for once in my life.
To know what He has already done for me is enough.
To praise Him for the blessings that surround me and not look for what more I can have.
I pray that if you are in a place of waiting, whether it be where you will live, work, or to expand your family, you know His plan is beautiful. It will always be greater than anything we could have ever written for ourselves. And while we wait for His plans to unfold, do not lose sight of serving Him.
My feet are planted here, in your will, Lord. And my steps will follow You, always.
Romans 12:2, "And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God."
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