Life can be an interesting journey.
These past few months have been especially challenging, intriguing, and edifying. I just looked up the word edifying to see if I used the best word.
Yep. That’s it.
We’ve definitely been instructed, improved, informed, illuminated, enlightened, and uplifted. All of the above.
As a matter of fact, it’s so much of all those things that I feel led to share it as it unfolds. Hopefully, you’ll find that our story leads you into some of the list above, but at the very least, may you find it entertaining.
The beginning of the story can be found in #3 miracle in my previous post. If you want the overall details of what began this moving story (no pun intended), you can read that post here.
After we lost our house in the auction that rocked us and left us questioning how God could direct us in doing the right thing only to have it blow up in our faces, we frantically began packing up our house.
I have to say right here that in the previous post, I described the miracle as we see it now. However, at the time, while we believed God must have a plan, and we said we were trusting him (and we were to the best of our ability), frantic does accurately describe how I felt. I confess that I lost it more than a couple of times during those three weeks.
That is because:
#1 – we didn’t know where we would go
#2 – we were being threatened by the new owner that any day a sheriff would throw us out
#3 – my physical limitations made packing difficult and painful
#4 – Brendan was working extremely long, physical hours in a town an hour away
#5 – we were working with a company to help us claim the money that was allegedly ours, but we didn’t know if we should trust the legal system (that had just burned us), and the company – to us and many others it seemed pretty unbelievable that these laws existed (see previous post)
On the night before the sheriff would show up at 7 a.m. the next morning, according to the very nice, and cautious (can you blame him these days?) officer who posted a notice on our front door, we were giving things away, selling items, and throwing whatever we could in the truck. We booked an extended stay hotel for a few days so we could figure out next steps.
That’s when the real fun began.
Brendan showed up to check us in around midnight. I had called the hotel earlier to let them know we would probably be checking in very late so they would be aware. An extremely helpful, kind young woman assured me it would be no problem and made a note at the front desk in case we arrived after she left at eleven.
All good, right?
The hotel wouldn’t allow us to stay there because we were locals.
I know. Crazy, right?
Apparently, there are hotels in the area which are frequented by local people involved in drug and sex trafficking so those establishments have decided that no one who lives within fifty miles can stay there. We don’t understand the logic.
Granted, Brendan in his sweaty, dirty, packing and loading a moving truck attire may have appeared less than respectable at the midnight hour, but still. Seriously?
Thankfully, God intervened in the form of a dear friend who rescued him, took me home to her house, and went back to finish loading the truck with him until 2 a.m. That is Jesus in action, my friends. She gave us her bed and slept on the couch!
We debriefed and rested for a few days at her home while she was on a family trip.
I cried a lot. Prayed even more. Okay, so maybe I cried more?
I don’t know. Don’t judge. Trusting Jesus is a process. Which is why I’m telling this story. Because where I was then and where I am now is miles apart.
Except the crying thing. Sad, happy, or moved with the Holy Spirit and my love for Jesus, I cry. I think my husband is finally learning to accept this.
During those days, we found a vacation rental and booked it for a month. We hadn’t found anything permanent. The market here is insane right now. Very few rentals with outrageous prices are snatched up within hours. Houses are selling at equally crazy prices.
The condo was a nice place on a lovely golf course ideally suited for Brendan and I with our youngest son. Those first couple of weeks went by without us finding anything to rent. We waited for the funds from our house sale.
Then we felt as if God said to stop looking. What? That made no sense to me. You need a place to live, you scan all the ads each day to find one. But it seemed that God had something different for us. It was a process for me to not look. Whenever a new listing popped up in my email, I’d look, then quickly delete it. Next time, I’d delete it sooner. Then one would seem good, and I’d check it out. For days, I fought the urge, gave up, gave in, and let a day go without succumbing. Finally, I surrendered and quit totally. Then the money from the house came through.
Coincidental? I don’t think so.
Since we asked the owner, and it seemed like the place was available, we assumed we would be able to extend our stay, but that didn’t end up working out. So we were on the move again.
Moving out, moving on, and moving up?
To be continued…