the life unexpected


We made it (back) to That Town. We’re here. Weird!

I’m still without internet but am writing this in the meantime in an effort to catch the swirl and turn of everything. (And it sure is interesting to be cut off from ‘everything’ for a few days! I’m a bit too attached to the phone and internet I believe!)

The past few days have been a bit ridiculous. J’ was on shift for the last days of packing, so I took care of the last things while the kiddos flipped out and clung on. By the time the mover arrived, my stomach was in pain with anxiety as I wondered how we were going to fit everything into the trailer. I finally had to just walk away and let him and J’ deal with it without my worried mutterings. Incredibly enough, I peeked back an hour later to see that they had fit every last thing; even my pots of peppers!

We headed south and arrived in town between rain storms. Stepping into our place, with the boxes and boys, my widening eyes and dropped jaw communicated one main thing: “Oh my word. What.a.dump. What a dive! Great….” Any tinge of gratefulness was buried beneath incredulous disappointment…and maybe just plain old frustration and sulkiness.

See, three years ago, we purchased this little place when I was pregnant with Jeremiah and we thought we’d be in town for a few years. It boasted yellow shag rugs, orange paneled walls, turquoise cupboards, and other unique expressions of décor. We tackled it as our first reno’ project. With that bizarre creative energy of “We’re young and about to have our first baby” we laid new flooring, put on new siding and a new roof, pulled down walls and put up new ones, and painted the entire place. The contrast was amazing and we thought we had created the best mobile home in town! Now however, after three sets of renters and with eyes that have lived in a custom built log home, well, the flaws are a bit more glaring.

To add to the fun, Jeremiah took a run through then ran up and cried, “I want my new home!!” “This is your new home sweetie,” I explained. “NO! Not this home! My ranch home!! I want my ranch home!!!” “Well sweetie, this is the home God’s given us, so quit fussing and be happy”
It was prime time for hypocrisy.

Day #2 presented hours of unpacking as well as an unexpected conversation.
D: “Let’s get that crib set up soon so Knightley can try a real bed. And we should haul that dresser in…and where do you think we should put that trunk?”
J: “Actually hon, I think we’ll hold off on setting up a lot of that big stuff until we know where we’re going.”
D: _____ “What…? Um…what do you mean? We’re here now, for a few years at least…right…?”
J: “Maybe, but we don’t know. We’ve talked about this. We need to look at all our options and choose what’s best for the next step and not limit ourselves. We can’t make the same mistakes we’ve done before and just stop cuz we’re tired or fearful. Maybe we’ll move to the East Coast. Maybe I’ll find something up North that’s too far to commute. We need to be open.”
D: “Good LORD Jeremy”[insert two hours of exhausted, emotional, pregnancy-enhanced, ‘expression’]

Thus ended Day #2.

Day #3 dawned with more rain (we literally have a marsh in the back yard!) and an attitude of confession and hope. Thanks be to God.

This is our home.
It’s not pretty.
It doesn’t stand a chance in the world of comparisons of riches or comforts or designs.

But our God has provided for us.
We’re safe.
We’re dry in days of cold rain.
There is clean drinking water.
Toilets that flush.
Cupboards full of food.
Space for books and pictures and toys and clothes and crafts and pets and plants and joy and prayer.

We remain far more privileged and pampered than 80% of our global community.
Any discontent, disappointment, or discouragement, is simply my own disservice to my family and my God, and must be confessed and released.

I have no idea where this road is taking us.
We may plant a home here for a few years, or a few months.
Baby-baby may be brought here…or not.
But in the midst of it all we’re learning to let go, and embrace what is valuable.

We’re understanding the burden of possessions.
The beauty of peaceful voices.
The pleasure of children.
The need to see need, and to give accordingly.
The opportunity for strength.
The gift of grace.

Anyways.
I keep thinking that this blog is going to regain the focus and inspiration and organization it experienced at the ranch, but maybe, for now, it’ll just keep flowing and winding along with our gypsy trail. We’re on a journey, and this is that story.

Thanks be to God.

 

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Comments
One Response to “the life unexpected”
  1. Pam Koop says:

    May God bless your home and time there in Three Hills, however long it may be! And may you be able to look back with fondness and awe at the fruit God has produced in your family at this time in the future!

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