Moving Out, Moving On, Moving Up Part 3
Today God showed up again.
He always does exactly when I need him to.
The morning started beautifully in worship, prayer, and reading the Bible. We received a response to an inquiry on a rental place with the same words we’ve heard over and over.
“I already have numerous applications on that one, but I have another one available in two or three months. When do you need to move in?”
“Yesterday. LOL” I texted back.
But, no worries. God knows. This is no surprise to him. Carry on.
We worked on hours of compliance requirements for our business. Prayed some more, and then went to go get a box of my books out of storage since someone wanted to purchase my new series.
No problem I thought.
I was wrong. Big problem.
Simply being at the storage unit, seeing the mess of our remaining belongings, and searching for the elusive box triggered those frantic days of moving three and a half months ago. The uncertainty and exhaustion, the sorrow, grief and confusion. It all came rushing back.
I paced the hall while Brendan replaced the things he’d moved to search for my books. And then I remembered that the last time I was at the storage unit, that overwhelming day of despair, was also the day God did a miracle. He healed my broken foot.
It happened like this:
Brendan and I had the final load to put into the unit. The clock was ticking and time running out. The truck needed to be returned in five minutes, and we still had the largest piece of furniture to unload. Our bed frame is a solid wood, canopy bed with four-inch square posts attached to a substantial headboard. Our very strong son and Brendan could just manage it, but our son was at school so that left Brendan and me alone to navigate this extremely heavy piece.
I’ve mentioned my limitations. Something like rheumatoid arthritis has rendered the joints in my hands and wrists barely moveable – I can’t even drive – so lifting and maneuvering the bed with Brendan seemed impossible.
Somehow, we managed to figure out a way to position it on our dolly. It was a great plan.
Except for the fact that we didn’t realize the space it would rest on the dolly had precisely the same opening as the post. We slid it over, dropped it in place and it slipped through all the way to the ground.
On top of my foot.
Excruciating barely describes the pain that shot through my leg. I screamed. Brendan probably swore – I’m pretty sure I did. I knew my foot was broken. Fumbling to get it off my foot first, and then out of the way, we both cried.
But we had no options except to push forward and get the thing moved.
Gritting my teeth and praying for help, we muscled it into an open space. We watched a massive lump develop on my foot, but I told Brendan to go take the truck back. I would continue to move things the best I could.
He left reluctantly. I limped, dragging my broken foot as I loaded the cart to take things up to the second floor. Trip after trip, I cried and prayed, stating that Jesus is my healer and I would not let this injury be the final word of a terrible day.
That same incredible, Jesus-example friend I mentioned in a previous post, picked Brendan up from the truck rental place and brought him back to storage to get me. Our son arrived to help Brendan.
I decided not to go to ER, even though our friend insisted I probably should. I had faith that God was healing it.
“Let’s just wait and ice my foot,” I said to my friend.
Within an hour, the swelling receded, and I could move my toes again. Soon after that, I could put weight on it. A purple bruise spread across my foot, but faded quickly to yellow over the next few days.
I realize that without an x-ray, there’s no medical proof that my foot was broken and healed. But the evidence based on the weight of the bed, the pain and immobility, and the way the bruise spread and dissipated so quickly, indicated a miracle to us.
Today, I needed that reminder at our storage unit.
And as if that wasn’t enough, when we went to pick up our mail afterwards, we opened a letter from our previous mortgage company to find a check. A refund. Really?
God paid our house off, gave us money, and now was sending us another unexpected check?
Tonight, as I write this, I’m freshly reminded of the goodness of God. Even in the telling, there is a refreshing revelation that he has our back. He sees our pain. God knows exactly what we need when we need it.
I might think I need a home, but what I really need is that sweet grace of Jesus.
To be continued…