October 6th, 2011 Tonight there are a few things on my mind that make me feel better about life.
Tonight I like:
That the dishes are done.
That the laundry is running.
That the children are all snuggled into their beds sleeping soundly.
That the main living part of the house (aside from the sunroom and storage room) is picked up, unpacked, and mostly in order.
That the house feels more like home.
That the fall candles are burning.
That Matt grilled shishkabobs (how on EARTH do you spell that word?) and they were marvelous. That we had enough to share with 4 neighbors, eat our fill, and have plenty for tomorrow.
That though it is nearly 10 and I still have a to-do list ahead of me tonight, that to-do list contains “make menu plan/grocery list” and “lesson plan/curriculum shop”. Such ordinary normal things. That haven’t been done in ages now.
That I have visited with 3 different friends (and their super sweet kiddos!), at 3 different parks, on 3 different days this week.
That we began school this week. Granted it was only the Pre-K’er and the 1st Grader, only one day, and only partial lessons. But it’s a start.
That in his spare time my 5th grader has been reading a human anatomy book.
That Matt has decorated our porch with multi-colored lights thereby declaring the non-stop Parker Party is in effect.
That the children (and I) have adjusted well to having only one cat for a pet. It’s quiet and nice.
That less stuff has indeed made me happier so far.
That I feel peace about the old house (sold or not, issues or not) right now.
That I feel peace about most things: waiting on money to fix up this house, not fully starting school back, even not having gotten my hair cut yet. I like peace.
Tonight Philippians 4 is on my mind. Particularly verses 11, 12 and 13: 11 I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have these verses licked. Not by a long shot. But tonight, just for tonight, they come to mind and don’t convict so much as comfort.
And I like that.
October 4th, 2011 I have a story to tell you. It’s rambly and disjointed. But it’s a good one.
I’ve tried to compose posts in my head and I’ve kinda written a couple, but they don’t stick. They don’t resonate with me. So they don’t get written. Plus, we all know without pictures I’m just lost. I’m so visual. It’s how I write, how I thrive. And this moving process has been just that: a process. Acquiring a computer, a modem, a router, now the computer won’t support my photo editing stuff. And I still have no writing space – the big desk has been disassembled (am I the only person who thinks of Number 5 Alive when I say that word?) and so I have to find my “spot” in the house now.
Yes, disassembled. Yes, that big beautiful desk that I have (had – whatever) is no more. It’s one of the many items that have bit the dust in this move.
When I first complained about having to pack up everything one of my friends said something along the lines of “well, at least you get to get rid of a bunch of stuff and de-crap in the midst of the move”. It cracked me up and though I knew she was right, I also very unhumbly thought “I’ve done a pretty good job of simplifying over the years, I won’t have too much of that to do.” (Note to self: whenever you think anything “unhumbly”.. get ready.) As I look back at the last few weeks I’m reminded of Eustace Scrub (of Narnia, yah?) and how when he became the dragon (which was actually just his true personality visibly seen) he realized he needed someone to fix him. But no one could, least of all him, and he turned to the one Fixer. But he realized what we eventually realize .. that the fixing is a tad bit painful. There are layers that need to be peeled away. Layers of accumulated … crap, if you will. And the peeling away is never as surface as you think it’s gonna be. Because the crap always goes deeper.
One of the ways I planned to de-crapify was to have a Yard Sale. We didn’t have a moving sale in the country because I didn’t have time to deal with it all alone with Matt up here working more and frankly, there are fewer people to buy your crap in the country. So, I packed all.that.stuff up and brought it here, piled it in a room and planned a yard sale. For weeks now.
(Okay step over here to the 3rd line of this story and I’ll make sure they all converge by the end, ‘k?)
I delayed listing the house with a realtor (or even putting a For Sale sign in the yard) because I couldn’t get all our old stuff out of the old house and couldn’t get it cleaned up to my standards. But finally I finished the paperwork on a Thursday and Matt took off on a Friday to finish the moving. That Friday morning (same day as the listing) we got an email from our realtor saying he had the house listed, the sign up in the yard, and it was officially on the market. Matt and I packed up the kids and cleaning supplies for one last big push at the old house. While I was packing them up to go there I realized I was super stressed, snapping at kids (and Matt) and was very cry-y. I dug deep and knew that it was the fact that there was no way we could sell that little country house in our power and finances. We didn’t have time or the money to get it fixed up the way everyone says you should (a new coat of paint, a mowed yard, a leaky faucet, gutters in place…) I hugged Matt at the back of the van and cried. I told Matt I had hit bottom and that we just couldn’t do this. I told him it was gonna have to be all God to get rid of that house (just like it was all God that led us straight to this one) because we just couldn’t pull it off. “It’s gonna have to be God’s miracle again.” And then I kinda giggled and said, “Well, at least I’m learning to hit bottom earlier! The first day it’s listed is way better than getting to the end of my rope. I hit bottom, I surrendered, I know God’s gotta do it, so now it’s just time for God to shine!” Matt smiled and hugged me. Away we went to the old house. A few hours into working Matt got another email from the realtor saying he would be showing the house the next morning (Saturday). We smiled and said, “Here goes God!” We finished that night at about 8:30pm. Saturday afternoon we got another email from the realtor that said the girl liked our house and wanted to bring her parents back to see it. Monday we were told the parents liked it, they were making an offer, and we would get the details by that night. We prayed and waited and prayed some more. The offer came in late Monday night and it was scarily close to our payoff. We’ve said all along we aren’t looking to make a profit on that house, we aren’t wanting to do any updates on it. We just want to be done and walk away. We prayed some more. The numbers were so close to the payoff that it scared us. And we’re so business unsavvy. We didn’t know what fees would be involved. We wanted to counter offer, to take the reigns, to back out. But instead we prayed more. We felt like God had taken over on that Friday that we surrendered (a short 3 days prior) and that He had made straight the path of the offer. Though we worried about the closeness of the numbers we knew God tended to cut things close (by our standards) a lot of times in a simple loving waiting for us to trust. (I’m reminded of the Israelites at the edge of the Sea – brought so far, with the Egyptians closing in on them, eminent death upon them – with miraculous only-God rescuing in the end). We prayed more and felt fully that to make a counter offer would be like bargaining with God. We knew He had sent the buyer. We knew He had the plan. So it just took accepting the offer. His offer. We did. By Tuesday at noon we signed the paperwork, on top of the world for what He had done for us. We proclaimed loudly and for all to hear what God had done for us! He was going Big! We were goin’ with Him! By Tuesday night the trials had begun. Hidden fees, electric bills that the electric company hadn’t known about for the last 5 years, fees, expenses, out of pocket fears. We wanted out. We got scared at the edge of the sea with the enemy closing in. We doubted. We wanted leeks, not the promised milk and honey. We emailed the realtor and asked what we could do to get out of the contract. We couldn’t sleep all night. We wrestled with God all night. I would pray and hand it over to Him remembering how He had orchestrated it all, then I would yank it all back and try to figure out a way to get out or at least afford all the fees on our own. Over and over all night. Give it to Him, take it back. That sucks, by the way. By morning Matt and I regretted our lack of faith, our off the cuff sending of the “back out” email. We worried about the realtor’s response. By 8am the realtor had replied with a very understanding, very kind email that he would work with us to cut the fees and out of pocket expenses, to just hang in there. Unexpected encouragement. We took a deep breath and pushed forward.
I continued on with our daily busyness. Trying to find a place for all our stuff, preparing for the yard sale (which was the last hold out of getting our school work in order and getting it going again). I started to get excited about the yard sale. It would be the answer to the out of pocket fees!! We would make enough to ease some of the burden! I toiled, stressed, and prepared for a bang up sale. The morning of (Saturday) a neighbor boy wandered by and asked about fixing the flower beds and yard for our elderly neighbor (who is on a brief out of town trip). I happily promised we would pay him for his services (knowing the yard sale would yield plenty of extra spending money). No problem!!
By noon we knew it was over. We had made $37. One of the handful of items we did manage to sell was Matt’s pair of Doc Martin’s that he loved. For $1. Accidentally sold them for him. For a whopping one dollar. The most money we made at one time was by a friend who I had set aside some clothes and the playpen. (I still think hers was a pity payment!) All total I had made $47. I owed MyOldest $11 that I had borrowed the day before, MyMiddlest $3, and oh, the neighbor boy came back by ready to weed that flower bed. For $20. I was planning my pity party and piling up the stuff to load up to take to Goodwill when I noticed the tire on the van was completely flat. And the tire next to it was showing the tread. A mere $200 bucks would fix that. Followed closely by a water bill (that had to be paid at the old house to get turned back on for the inspection this week) that we thought would be just over $100 became nearly $300. Trials. Upon trials, upon trials.
I was bemoaning our stupidity, our bad luck, our poor judgment, our lack of business sense. I was wallowing in my lack of faith. I was no better than those silly, stupid Israelites who grumbled, complained, and wanted slavery back.
And then I realized that Yard Sale was a very visual wake up that I wasn’t going to fix this on my own. Who gets the glory when I make enough money to cover everything in my own power? I was letting it go again. I took the clothes to Goodwill, but set all of our other yard sale belongings on the curb (what we’ve learned is affectionately called “Curb-Mart”). I watched through the window as all night Daddies carried off baby furniture and toys. And I found myself with so much joy at letting go. At blessing others freely.
I also discovered that I was okay releasing all that baby stuff. Are we through having babies? Are we planning on more (as I so boldly stated just a few months ago)? I don’t know. I’m praying for contentment no matter what. We’re taking it all one day at a time. We knew we were supposed to release the baby stuff. To simplify. Way beyond what we had planned. We feel called to let go of so much: preconceived notions, plans, money, our own way, the toiling of our hands, the complex business side of my blog, the time I spend online, the nursing of the toddler, the single digit years of my oldest, our dog that we feel we nursed back to health and prepared for someone else someone who has time and space for a medium sized dog, one of our cats (who was making messes in inappropriate places), the babyhood of our youngest child, the desk we didn’t need that was taking up so much space, the clutter filling our lives, taking our time and stealing our joy.
Some people move to the country to simplify their lives, God moved us to the city to focus ours. I love Him, I love the ride, and I’m learning to trust. To simplify. To proclaim His goodness in the full knowledge of the trials to come.
I’m learning to shout of His works in the middle of them and not just waiting for the big ending. I think He wants me trust Him enough to talk about Him and His works in the middle of what He’s doing and not just waiting til it all looks neat and prepackaged. I think He wants me to work out my salvation with fear and trembling. In front of all of you.
September 3rd, 2011 Tonight’s the last night here.
I haven’t been sad. I’ve known I should be sad, but I just haven’t been. That’s my usual M.O. I work and work and work and don’t take time to process any of it and then after it’s all over I collapse into a sobbing heap.
Tonight I called Matt and sobbed. The kind where I couldn’t talk and I did a lot of snooking. All while he talked about goofy stuff and tried to distract me with lots of “hey, look over here!”s. He also tried to talk sense into me and he tried listening (you know when I was doing something more than sobbing and snooking). I love that man. Which is another of the reasons I was crying. Between the new job, the longer hours, the longer drive, the obtaining of a new house, the preparation of selling this house, the upheaval that babies go through when their worlds are flipped upside down, the emotional attachment of this house, the pee stick test that has repeatedly shown one line, the emotional roller coaster that comes with the *ahem* cycle, if you will, the pre-weaning weaning, the dog and all of that newness, the single-handed packing of a home of 7, the meal preps and cleanups, the laundry and dishes that refused to stop in the midst of the packing, with all of that, my man has been home about 2 nights this week. He has been crazily trying to get the new house ready for us to move into and that on the heels of his new job each day. The man is tired, y’all, and then has to put up with my hysterics. I’m tellin’ ya, he’s a good man. But I miss him when he’s not here. Terribly. I’ve told you before about how he is the laughter in this house. I can keep a schedule running, but I can’t bring the sunshine. And while he’s been gone focusing on the new house I’ve been busy packing the old one. I’m a workaholic at heart and this time it was no different. So, as their toys and normalcy slowly disappeared into boxes and their daddy was away, I was busy not paying attention to them. They were bored and .. off. The little ones just don’t understand where Daddy is, why I’m so busy and where on earth are our toys and when can you play that game of Memory, Mama? They don’t get that this is a season.
But it is. And it’s coming to a close. With a beautiful exciting new season blooming. We just have to live through this dying fall and winter in this house we’ve put roots into and wait for the blooms that God is bringing about in the new house. The neat thing about God is that with the death of one thing there is rebirth in another.
Today overall was a much better day than the day before (what with the constant crying by at least one of them at all moments of the day yesterday), but it hit me hard tonight after I got the kiddos all in bed. I got the kitchen completely packed up (except for those few dishes we had to use tonight) and I’m down to just the few items the kids have out and the tools in the laundry room. The house echoes and feels sad. I’ve embraced each of the “lasts” tonight. The last kid baths, the last shower, the last dinner, the last tucking in here … all without our rock, our constant… and with that and the lack of sleep plus hormonal monthly issues, I was left a sobbing heap.
But tomorrow will not only come early, it will come shining fresh. It will have a new to-do list, new possibilities, new fun (aren’t those redundant?!), new adventures. It’s just that in the winter, in the night, in this season I must have faith. In the unseen. I must rely on my past experience that indeed, tomorrow will come with the sunshine, that spring does follow winter, that joy follows sadness, that embracing comes after letting go. It is a season. And as with most seasons, though it can seem long in the midst, in hindsight I will realize how very short this time was. And I’ll wonder if this time was just a dream. If we hadn’t been living in that new place all our lives.
Here’s to new beginnings. And sobbing. For after the rain the ground is refreshed.
August 7th, 2011 I love when I find the oasis in the desert of my faith!
We’ve been reading through the Bible with the kiddos. (Yes, all of them. Yes, the whole Bible beginning to end.) Albeit rather slowly. And I’ve felt bad about our starting and stopping. About our lagging. Until today. When I realized God had saved today’s reading for such a time as this.
We’ve gotten to II Chronicles and today I was floored by our reading. In II Chronicles 29:10-11 Hezekiah says 10 Now it is in my heart to make a covenant with the LORD God of Israel, that His burning anger may turn away from us. 11 My sons, do not be negligent now, for the LORD has chosen you to stand before Him, to minister to Him, and to be His ministers and burn incense.” Remember where I just talked about us turning to God, submitting ourselves to His calling? Wow. Just wow.
Then King Hezekiah and all those desiring to seek God praised Him and celebrated with joy for days. May our celebration be half as musical and loud and joyful as theirs!
I especially liked chapter 30 verses 18, 19, and 20 where it says ‘18 For a multitude of the people, even many from Ephraim and Manasseh, Issachar and Zebulun, had not purified themselves, yet they ate the Passover otherwise than [a]prescribed. For Hezekiah prayed for them, saying, “May the good LORD pardon 19 everyone who prepares his heart to seek God, the LORD God of his fathers, though not according to the purification rules of the sanctuary.” 20 So the LORD heard Hezekiah and healed the people. “ Because though it would seem through all of that commandment reading that our God is a god of rules, really He’s a God of Love. Of mercy. And of compassion.
And then we got to chapter 31:20-21 and my heart smiled and yearned to do what is right before the Lord our God, that we will be in service in the house of God in law and in commandment, seeking Him with all our heart and to prosper.
My prayer is that when hard times come in the days before us as Sennacherib besieged them in chapter 32, that we would be strong and courageous, not fearing or being dismayed, knowing that the One who is with us is greater than the one who is against us and that God will be the one to fight our battles for us. (chapter 32 verses 7-8 and verses 20-22)
And my continued prayer is that when I find myself turning away from God (because it will happen, it always does) that I will humble the pride of my heart and turn back to God. (verse 25-26)
Oh, Father, today I am thankful for your Words which were timely and true. Which were uplifting and joyful!! Thank you, God, for blessing my heart today!!
August 3rd, 2011 It’s been a whirlwind doozy of a couple of days. Seems like I might have opened a post a couple of weeks ago nearly the same way. I dunno, I’m too tired and lazy to go check, but it sounds familiar to me. Anyway.
I can’t tell you everything right now. But trust me when I say do I have a story for you. And the Author has some surprise twists along the way.
I’m giddy about telling it. And I don’t even know the whole story yet.
It’s like when you grew up with Star Wars Episodes 4, 5, and 6 and then you got all excited and watched the newest Episode 1 and then Episode 2. But you had to wait for Episode 3 to tie it all together for you. You knew how it ended. You knew where you had gotten to. You just don’t know exactly how it all comes together. But I’m super excited to find out what He has for us.
We’ve kinda known God was calling us to a mission field (don’t get too excited, we’re not actually moving off to Africa – it’s a local mission field). But we kinda didn’t want to listen. We kinda thought maybe He wasn’t really talking to us. That maybe it was just directed at other people. So, we kept not really listening. And consequently we stayed in a constant state of frustration.
And through a complete frustrated crying surrender (why can’t I ever see it when I’m in the middle of it?) a calm voice reached out and asked, “Hey, why don’t you consider moving here. Where we are reaching out in missions. Come on over, we’ll look at houses together.”
And I cried some more. Right there in the van on a day that Arkansas broke record heat temperatures. Matt and the kids asked me why I was crying this time. And I explained it was because I knew this feeling. This feeling of a belching whale. I knew what it felt like to feel the Answer in the midst of my feeble prayer. I knew that when you choose Tarshish, that eventually you beg for Ninevah. And I knew, with all that I had coming that I didn’t know, I knew Who was calling us. I knew that the last time Matt and I followed Him on complete and total blind faith it was one of the closest times we’ve lived through. I knew that it was one of the closest to Him times we’ve lived through. I knew that it was hard and fun and crazy and exciting. I knew it felt right.
I still don’t have all the answers, but tonight I have peace and anticipation. This is what it’s like to really live. I might have forgotten. I feel like I’m waking up from a long midday sleep.
Today I’m thankful for…
- a van that kept running all day, though it acted like it didn’t wanna
- an air conditioner that kept running, though it has gone out several times in the last few days
- my friends who whisper Words of encouragement
- my friends who pray for us
- my friends who will go so far as to look up possible houses for us to live in and send us links
- my husband being a Christ follower
- my husband and I being of One mind
- family who have prayed us through every step of the way
- new opportunities
- His hand
- food enough through the last week
- my children who have been willing to eat everything I’ve put in front of them this last week without complaint
- Kristin who didn’t know how to help from states away, but sent a letter covered in handwritten encouraging verses (I can’t wait until I can get that picture on here!) and a Subway gift card (you knew we were “not dieting” and eating healthy – it didn’t go unnoticed!!) that fed our family 2 meals on this day of desperation. And cookies. We bought cookies with it too. Today, sweet Kristin, you fed my family and my soul.
I’m just thankful. And ready.
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