the little house on Pittsburg Ave . . .

We were supposed to be moving next Saturday. Over a dozen boxes are stacked in our apartment with everything from books, to water pitchers, to decorative pillows, to cutting boards . . . all of the things that I quickly discovered you can live without. Moving was a "for sure" thing. Sure enough to motivate me to spend hours packing boxes, numbering them, and recording everything in Excel to keep disorganization from driving me insane.

But God is bigger than our set plans.

Capital gains tax had put us in a quandary - if the house was not either sold or occupied by us come October 31st we would have to pay. Our realtor told us that closing takes 45 days. Until last Tuesday, we had not had an offer that we wanted to accept. Therefore, moving was inevitable.

I really struggled with the reality . . . for multiple reasons. It defiantly did not help that our renters had turned a once beautiful home into a . . . well . . . not sure what word to use here. How many times did we say, "What on earth did they do??" Did they never wash their hands? What was all of that "stuff" on the kitchen cabinets? A rabbit lose in a bedroom? Yeah. The thought of being there day in and day out with my little baby, even after we "cleaned it up," made me cringe.

I was doing fairly well with the situation for a while. I kept quoting "rejoice in the Lord always . . . do not be anxious about anything." In fact, every time I changed Ezekiel’s diaper I made myself say it over and over - it was a way to immerse myself in truth ten times a day so that I could trust. Last Monday evening though, I found myself so weak. All of the reasons that I hated the thought of living there swarmed in my mind like a shadow that would not leave me. My "front" of trying to get myself excited about having more space, picking out paint colors, and living across the street from a park had faded. Tuesday morning I found myself on my face before the Lord, just spilling out all of my thoughts, fears, and emotions that had been reserved in the previous weeks. I did not even think to ask Him to change things . . . I couldn't even speak much. I just kept begging Him for grace - asking Him for just a little bit of strength so that I could get through.

We had some people at our place for Bible study Tuesday evening. I was glad to have the work of getting things ready, making some dessert, and having people around to keep myself distracted. After Bible study ended, I noticed that Luke was not around . . . he was in the back bedroom on the phone. He came out and gave me a thumbs up. I was excited. I was thinking, "That must mean that we got a good offer and we will only have to live there for 45 days. Thank you Lord." But then Luke said to everyone there, "Just to let you know, we can continue to have Bible study here. Our plans to move have changed. The house sold and it will close by the 31st of this month."

I must have comprehended what was said right away . . . because my emotions reacted before my mind could catch up. I felt so humbled. Why did my faith waver? Why did I not trust that He could accomplish whatever would bring Him glory? Why did I doubt His all sufficiency? Now He had done the "impossible." He showed Himself in such a loving way that I felt a sting of rebuke.

Everything about it seemed shocking. The fact that a pleasant, cleanly family could see past the disaster of dirt and still appreciate the quality and location of the home. The fact that we received an almost full price offer after a completely insulting one the night before. The fact that everyone involved agreed that the deal could be closed in record time. The fact that the house sold quickly, even in this economy. Any one of those things alone would have been amazing . . . all of them together testified to more than "chance."

The thing that I love above all else is how God is glorifying Himself in this. Everyone's reaction is, "Wow! Praise the Lord." I don't even have to probe with a "isn't God good??" comment. It's just so obvious. The realtor, my parents, my brother, our pastor, my grandparents, my piano student . . . everyone that I tell the news to recognizes God's hand.

So, although I usually don't record my life story on my blog . . . especially as it cannot be fully understood by those who don't know every detail, I wanted to type this out quickly so that I could look back and remember.

I want to remember in the next test that my Lord is always faithful.