I’m joining my dear friend Lisha Epperson as she takes over The Sunday Community. I know she’d love to have you come on over and join her for some coffee! So take a load off and take a seat, we’ve got a hot cuppa waiting for you.
There are changes running like a vein of silver in my life. Changes that bring promise and fear and a bit of holy terror. We are moving. We are pulling soggy roots from this rain forest and we are headed back to the state that no matter where we’ve roamed, we’ve always called home. It is a homecoming my husband has anticipated for the last three years, his muscles aching to walk the mountains and tread the paths of his history. It’s funny, this thing with us Montanans. No matter where we roam, or how long we’ve lived away, when some one asks where we’re from the answer is always the same: Montana. Even if we haven’t lived there for years.
So we’ll pack our bags and box up this rental and our belongings and hit the wide open road across the Eastern Washington Desert, the massive passes and over the river and through the woods. Quite literally. And moving, it’s stressful. But there’s been this amazing peace I’ve had about the whole thing. Moving with four kids, two dogs and a cat is kind of a big deal. It’s hard to find places to live. Rentals? Ha. If you want to hand over that first born with the down payment, well then there you go.
|My New View|
But finding a house was proving to be a nightmare. There was nothing in our price range. There was one we thought might be feasible, so we planned a mad-dash house hunting trip for this weekend. It went under contract on Thursday. Sigh. But there were two more possible possibilities. So we went. We drove through the night and got there at 3 a.m. with an 8 a.m. scheduled showing. We walked out of the first house and loved it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was homey. It felt comfortable.
The second house didn’t feel right. There was something that neither of us could put our fingers on, but it just was off. I kept thinking that we needed to go with our gut. We had prayed for this. Prayed for the doors to be wide open and the decisions easy and obvious. So we threw that one out and kept going back to the first.
After talking options and weighing pros and cons, it came down to this: when we thought of raising our kids there-we both got misty eyed. That was it. It was our house. Now we just had to see of the sellers would meet our terms. So I called and got voice mail. Nothing worth waiting for comes quickly, right?
When my phone rang and the seller’s number popped up, my stomach filled with butterflies. What if they didn’t like our offer? What if they just laughed at us? What if….what if….
But they didn’t. We met in the middle and we both were grinning through the phone in the end. She told me how they had prayed for this: that a family would come and love the house and I told her we prayed the same. We had done it.
God had done it.
We drove 12 hours with no thought of options, and in 12 more had found our new home and agreed on a price. The doors had been opened. Doors in the right school zone, in a good neighborhood and two miles from family. Doors that will hold in my family and usher in new friends. Doors of new opportunity and hope. We couldn’t be happier.
But this is the beginning. Now the paperwork starts and while in theory there should be no problem, I’m not so naive to think that things don’t sometimes go wrong. But here’s the thing-I still have total peace. I believe in God-winks-coincidences that have meaning. The current owners of this house? They have our last name. Their daughter? She’s a nurse. And the address itself? It’s the same four numbers of the house my hubby grew up in.
So though there is still a million things that could go wrong, I have a peace in my heart. We’ve been given so much grace in this opportunity and I can see God winking from here.