The sign has sat on the front lawn since June. Our second try at selling our four bedroom, nearly half acre sanctuary.
With money tight, I wonder how in the world we’ll pay the mortgage next month. Almost didn’t in August.
And He supplies all that we need, when we need it, just for the asking. Just because we are His beloved kids.
And the family who came to see the house three times and made an offer, withdrew their bid after all that.
I didn’t realize when they made their appointment that I know his mom. She had been my bible study leader years ago. And I had prayed back then for this family when they were pregnant with their first.
And tears leaked as we prayed together for God’s will after they told me how much they loved this place. How much they wanted our home to be theirs. And them with three daughters and me with three sons and us loving Jesus.
But the One who has prepared a home for us in heaven, He knows.
When. How. Who.
Thy will be done, my Lord.
So I put bidding farewell to the place I have hung my heart for the last 21 years on the back burner until another day.
And my heart simmers and swirls with longing for what is next and longing for what has been all the while staying as fully present in the present moment of now where gifts abundant fill my heart.
Yet memories linger.
This home was the nest where my three chicks learned to fly.
And me, I learned too. Slowly. To soar with Him though crashing a time or two while wandering in the dark.
And this old house that is bright with sunshine even on a cloudy day, radiates a brilliance that comes only from Him dwelling here.
He was always the head of this house. Still is.
And what I will miss most of all was the falling in love with Jesus here.
Him closer than my next breath all the days and nights of heart hurting events in this humble house, and me all broken into a million pieces starting with an unwanted divorce and three little ones to raise alone.
He met me then and He met me through all of it that followed; He meets me and my Michael now, and my heart on His altar in any room.
And He is my treasure of precious as I leave this place to go where He will lead us next.
There was the night He twirled me around the kitchen floor as I waited to have a repeat mammogram. And it was in that moment of closeness that the fear, well it left me instantly after feeding off my flesh for the previous week. And I sang a song of sweet relief and very humble gratitude the next day when the doctor said the spot was nothing.
He held me as I held little boys flushed with fever through countless nights of sickness and croup, and shrieking in the night when dreams turned dark. And when I awoke from a bad dream in a bed half empty it was His name I softly called and His comfort that soothed me back to sleep.
And as a single mom longing to redecorate her dining room but with no cash to spare He home delivered fabric that was what my heart had envisioned. Elderly neighbor lady next door just happened to have yards and yards left over and thought I might be able to use it.
He sat with me on the deck as I journaled after a long and tiring day. Until the fire flies came out and three started chasing, tiny hands clasping, and big dog at my feet barking. And I thanked Him for strength and courage, His kindness to me, a single mom with a hurting heart that could only be healed by His tender mercies over time.
Winter came and His love warmed me.
He kept the lights on in my home, and several others on the block, when the rest of the development went black during a blizzard that brought winds that shook so strong I was sure a tree would come down or the window panes shatter.
Me not sleeping one wink that night but holding His hand through the long dark hours, wind howling, and He covered me as I pulled the covers closer, wishing there was a husband to lean on.
Then realized there was One.
Old willow did tumble that cold and snowy night, missing my bedroom by several feet.
Holy Husband protecting His loved ones.
And on that rainy night when the phone rang.
My boy had totaled his car into a tree not five minutes from home after staying too late and drinking too much at a college party.
And my Jesus, He took the wheel and kept me steady as I drove to the scene all shaky. Seeing what no mother wants to see, lights flashing in every direction from emergency vehicles. And in the mist a man-boy spared and standing, barely scratched.
Thank you, my Lord.
It is all these precious moments and so many more when it was just Him and me. When He healed and guided and loved on a shattered single mom loaded down with sins. Him never leaving me or forsaking me.
That is what I will miss most of all when we finally move on from here.
And a day is coming when this old house on the hill will no longer be home, yet my heart will always have its home in Him no matter where my Michael and I may roam, seeking our new place that we will name Longings End.
So after a rain shower on a summer evening my Michael picks wild blackberries out back.
We share their sweetness, offering thanks for the sweetness of this place, our first home as man and wife. And for the sweet memories we have made here. Ever dear.
And in this season of waiting and wondering, I still my heart from wanting to know. No need to wish upon a star since the maker of all the stars has a perfect plan for my Michael and me.
As night shifts places with the dawn every 24 hours we keep waiting on God whose day can stretch like a thousand years.
And in the waiting place, we learn lessons in the moments as time seems to stall.
Faith ever stronger.
Hope that does not disappoint.
Joy even if the circumstances are trying.
For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:17-18
Frail and faulted, my human heart like yours is fragile so He handles it with care.
And He speaks to me with clarity when I choose to clear the chatter from my mind and quiet my soul, exhaling into strong arms where I am always safe.
Loving Father watching over me and my Michael.
Loving Father watching over you, too.
And my season of letting go goes on.
Letting go of the baby years.
And this house that holds my heart.
Leaving behind all that has come before.
Ready to move on.
So I sort through snapshots of life lived here, captured moments when it was just me and my sons.
I pack up bags of our belongings for Good Will. Passing on what was ours for the good of another.
Prepare personal files and financial papers for shredding.
And all those dusty journals, evidence of my dusty self evolving.
Old books holding words that escaped through the cracks in my heart.
Prayers penned to the Almighty on pages stained with tears in the wee hours.
Scriptures recorded that held me together when everything around me was falling apart.
And even my moaning and groaning, and temper tantrums scrawled large across the page.
Those words, those thoughts all twisted, pouring out of my flat out broken heart, helped me heal in those days when I dared not even hope for a happy ending to my story.
As dust to dust, the pages of my life shredded may be recycled someday as pages of another woman’s heart journal.
If so I pray she will know Jesus in the achingly beautiful, breathtaking way that sometimes is only found from walking the dark and rocky path alone with Him.
And from us to the next owners, this house too shall pass. And they will make their own memories in these four walls.
He who is the same forever will pen the next chapter of the story, line upon line. Never in a rush and never at a loss for words.
Meeting me in ways that are lighter now since they are shared with a man who loves and sacrifices for me.
And grace will carry me and my precious husband to our new home.
Traveling through time on earth in moments measured in love…
Related post on saying goodbye to your home when your heart wants to stay with so many lessons along the way.
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