Saturday, April 19, 2014

My house

Out of the blue, we are seriously looking at putting our house up for sale as soon as possible, with the hopes of it selling by the summer. It's strange how there are always a million options in our lives but until you have a specific, new idea, the current plan just seems like your only option.  About a week ago, Josh brought up the idea of trying to sell this summer instead of next summer and honestly my first reaction was, no way, that's not going to happen. I knew we were going to move, most likely in about a year and a half. A change like that felt exciting and sat comfortably in me when it was still seemingly far away. But putting it on the table for now, well that was completely different.

I was surprised by how unsettled it first made me. I think I pride myself on being up for most anything and I'm not terribly afraid of change. But it hit me hard that we were going to be the ones to sell the house my parents bought when my mom was pregnant with me, 36 years ago this spring. The house where all of my childhood memories happened. And now for six years it's been the home my children have known and we've made our own memories. I think of the community of people who have come through this house, the people my parents invited in. I think about all the sleepovers, birthday parties, and late night talks that have happened in these walls. So many wonderful conversations, so many dreams, so many experiences of God speaking his goodness. It makes me feel so full of emotion. The kind where it's in your throat, not quite spilling over yet.

I love this house. I love that I had a great childhood here, filled with wonderful family and friends. I love that I've been able to share this house with my family. That my kids have played in the same leaves I did, and have waded in the same creek. I love shared experiences.

But I also love new adventures. I love good change. I love the idea of not having to drive an hour and a half taking kids to and from school each day. It's fun to think of living more in the country and close to a lot of friends.

Who knows what will happen, even if we put it up for sale, we won't be in control of when it sells. I think that'll be comforting in a way. We'll do our part and then see what happens. But when it does sell, I know one thing for sure. I'll be sad, and I'll cry. I'll grieve what was, even as I look forward to what is coming.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

My soul feels so satisfied right now. There's such a deep knowing that all is well when it comes to what is eternal. I was thinking about this the other night and overcome with gratefulness. I believe it was the Father who then spoke the words in my mind, "You've come home". And that's exactly what it feels like. I'm at home. I'm at home with my Father's overwhelming love for me. Even though I've always known him, my identity was more wrapped up in what I could do for him rather than who He wanted to be to me. I've come home and my Dad has thrown a party. I'm in agreement in a deeper way that all He is and all He has, is mine, because I'm His. It's like my spirit is shouting yes! I believe you. Not because I should, but because I actually do. I feel settled, like Someone's perfectly strong, capable hand is resting on my heart. I'm not alone, trying to do what I can with my goodness. I'm overcome by His goodness. I feel rich and I'm eating the best food.

I've read so many Bible verses for so many years and believed them the best that I could. But now I keep having those moments where what I'm experiencing is what I've read about in the Bible and inside I'm jumping up and down shouting, "this is what that is".  Even as I'm writing now, so many past prayers are coming to mind. Things I've told God I wanted to experience. And this is that. Man it's overwhelming in the most wonderful way. I'm blown away by His faithfulness. He is so kind and so patient. And He holds my heart so gently. I feel so taken care of by Him. It's so good to be the kid and let Him be the parent. I've desperately wanted to know how to receive like this, to rest like this. And now the tears won't stop.