Do Not Fear, I Will Help You

I am in the midst of
moving. Unfortunately, due to other commitments, my family cannot assist me. While I am physically able to handle the demands of moving, it is a daunting task. However, God is indeed my helper as He has proclaimed in Isaiah 41:13.

First, the move is a good one, saving me $800 a month in rent and utilities. The apartment is new, only two years old, and beautiful both inside and out. This is the view from my ground-floor patio. God has indeed blessed me. 

Second, I will not have any yard maintenance, and yet will enjoy the benefits of lovely landscaped grounds. As for the inside, maintenance will even change light bulbs. I need only to clean. At this stage of my life, I’m ready to stop the hard work of maintaining a yard and house. 

As for help, two things happened. My neighbor offered to help transport and unload boxes at the apartment. A new friend I met in the lingerie department in Kohl’s, of all places, has also offered to help. Then, a power company employee working nearby noticed me carrying boxes and helped me unload my car. All these unexpected helping hands are making this move so much easier.

Dear Lord, thank you for all the help you have sent, and for all that You do for me. May I live a life worthy of such blessings. Amen. 

Done!

 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

As far as moving out of the house, it’s done. A crew from my church came Saturday and transported all of my household goods to storage. The closing on my house sale is now this coming Wednesday, June 18th.

I’m staying at a friend’s house for a couple of weeks while I finish up appointments. Then, I’ll head to Oregon and family.

I’m not sure how I’ll fill my time until then. After five months of crazy busy, it’s odd not to jump out of bed and hit the floor running. However, if I can concentrate, a writer friend has requested some book cover designs, and it has been months since I worked on my newest novel. There’s also my TBR pile. Reading more than a few pages at once proved to be impossible. Perhaps now that my mind isn’t buzzing with everything needing to be done, I can focus on these and other things.

Sleep. That’s also on my agenda. Without my mind spinning in too many directions at once, hopefully I can sleep past 2:30 am.

Over all, I’m doing well. Relieved and yet a little bittersweet at the conclusion of this chapter of my life. But moving forward is the best course. There’s no reliving the past. I’m okay with that, never been one to dwell on what cannot be changed. Over time occasions like tomorrow, our 23^rd anniversary will no longer be painful. God will fill the hours and the days with other blessings.

“And we know that to them that love God, all things work together unto good, to such as, according to his purpose, are called to be saints.” Romans 8:28.

“For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.”

 Thank you, Lord, for all the blessings you have given me in the past, now, and in the future. Amen.

Nearing the Finish Line

Image by Peter W from Pixabay

It’s almost done. I received another offer on the house. After a few back-and-forth counter offers, we settled on a price that both parties are happy with. The planned closing date is June 20^th, two weeks from my accepting the offer. I’m ready. I’ve done so much packing that it won’t be hard to finish.

Funny how your mind works. I couldn’t wait to move. Now, it’s bittersweet. I’m memorizing everything. How the sunrise tints the canyon and hills with soft, golden light, the quail scurrying across the law, the grazing doe, the chorus of birdsong. Time spent on the patio swing looking out over the little valley with cattle and hayfields, and so much more.

I’ll miss my good neighbors, my friends, and my church, but I’ll take memories with me, along with friendships. We’ve already planned visits and phone calls.

It’s time to move forward into this next season of my life. I’m sure God will provide all I need with some embellishments. There will always be sunrises and sunsets, birdsong, paths to walk, and friends.

Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with the many years I had with my husband and this beautiful home. I know you have more blessings in my future. I just can’t see them at the moment. Amen. 

Home

Right on schedule, three years after purchasing what we thought was going to be our last home, I caught my husband looking at houses for sale.

To be honest, I understood why he was house hunting again. The traffic on our street quadrupled after Wal-Mart built a Neighborhood Market a half mile down the street, and the area has grown to the point a two-mile drive takes ten to twenty minutes, depending on the time of day. Still, I dreaded the nightmare of another move — until my husband showed me pictures of the house he was interested in.
We scheduled a viewing.

The moment I stepped out of the car, I knew we had found, home, the place where we could set down roots.

The half-acre property sat alone on a small hill overlooking the Snake River Canyon, rolling hills, and farmland. Fully landscaped in lawn, trees, and shrubs, it was like standing in the midst of a private park.

He didn’t have to convince me to put in an offer.

Yes, it was a nightmare selling our other home, applying for the loan on the new one, and the physical and mental stress of moving, but…

Several coveys of quail pass through the property every day. Ducks, geese, and swallows fly overhead in the evenings. Mourning doves blend their soft coos with a myriad of other songbirds. Butterflies and hummingbirds hover among the flowering shrubs. We saw a doe out front the other evening, and an owl flew across the back lawn. A fox crossed the road in front of us on the way back from town, and the term starry night has taken on a new meaning.

The inside of the house is what I would call Spanish country. The walls have tons of plant shelves and built in niches, a double fireplace, with huge picture windows in every room, wood and tile floors throughout.

The closet town, seven miles away is small, but with enough amenities to supply necessities. A larger town with tons of shopping and medical services is less than a thirty-minute drive, on country roads with little traffic. People are friendly (even at the local DMV).

This morning, amid the usual serenade of doves and killdeer, I heard a Meadowlark, one of the first since leaving my home in Oregon. Its lilting song has always reminded me of what a wonderful world we live in.

The fragrances of sage and pine, along with the sound of rushing creeks transport me back to my happy childhood, a time of family gatherings and celebrations, a time before tragic deaths, misunderstandings, and separations drew us apart.

This isn't just a place to live. It's a home where I can heal from long buried wounds and let go of new ones.

I am not alone with these feelings. I’ve never seen my husband smile this much, or be this happy.

How like God to leave the best for last.  

Thank you, my Heavenly Father, for caring so much. 

This is the my view while writing this post. My warm weather office, a little piece of heaven. 

The Fourth Watch

Selling a home, buying a new one, and moving is a nightmare of huge proportions. No wonder it is the third most stressful life event. If I had more faith, the process would not be so heart wrenching, but like Peter walking on water, I looked at my circumstances, doubted and sank beneath the turbulence of documents and time restrictions.

I failed to trust God.

He gave me a promise the first time I stood in the new house.  He swathed in a blanket of warmth and I heard the word, home. We would live in the house for the rest of our lives. Whatever challenges lay ahead were only bumps along the way. All I had to do was trust.

I was like Peter starting out strong, then succumbing to fear. Then, during the fourth watch of the loan process, Matthew 14:22-23 was listed among my devotions. Yes, the story of Peter walking toward Jesus on a stormy sea.

Jesus’ words echoed in my heart. “Oh, you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

In my weakness, I let circumstances overrule my faith.

However, I never stopped clinging, praying, and begging for strength.

We are now in the final phase. In less than a week, it will all be over.

I would like to say I will never doubt God’s word again, but I will. My human frailty will overcome my faith, and I’ll falter. However, there is no need to despair. God will pick me up, dust me off, and carry me the last few steps. Every. Single. Time.

Wobbling

My husband and I have not lived in a house for more than three years. When he started looking at homes this spring, I set down parameters. The new home had to be spectacular — and our last — or I wasn’t budging. 

Well, I’ve agreed to move. He found our dream home, a little slice of country living close to amenities and lots of outdoor recreation — two hours and another city away. None of that mattered when I stepped inside. Home. The word settled in my heart. This would be our last move.

However, as the challenges of selling and buying rose, I wobbled, terrified we wouldn’t pull this one off. 

I turned to my devotions for encouragement.

Living Faith for July 14^th quoted Genesis 46:3. “God said to him [Jacob], I am the most mighty God of thy father: fear not, go down into Egypt, for I will make a great nation of thee there.”

Fitting words considering the new house is south of us. 

The devotion also listed Psalm 37: 3-4, 39-40: “Trust in the Lord, and do good, and dwell in the land, and thou shalt be fed with its riches. Delight in the Lord, and he will give thee the requests of thy heart… But the salvation of the just is from the Lord, and he is their protector in the time of trouble. And the Lord will help them and deliver them: and he will rescue them from the wicked, and save them, because they have hoped in him.”

Another reading quoted Psalm 91: 1-4, 14-15: “He that dwells in the aid of the most High, shall abide under the protection of the God of Jacob. He shall say to the Lord: Thou art my protector, and my refuge: my God, in him will I trust. For he hath delivered me from the snare of the hunters: and from the sharp word. He will overshadow thee with his shoulders: and under his wings thou shalt trust… Because he hoped in me I will deliver him: I will protect him because he hath known my name. He shall cry to me, and I will hear him: I am with him in tribulation, I will deliver him, and I will glorify him.”

If that wasn’t enough, the Gospel reading was from Matthew 10: 29-31: “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And not one of them shall fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: better are you than many sparrows.”

In the future, I hope I won’t wobble when faced with a mountain of challenges, but the flesh is weak, no matter how determined the spirit. Thankfully, God has infinite patience, compassion, and resources to rescue me — even from myself.  

Gypsy Blood

My husband must have it somewhere in his lineage. About every two years, like clockwork, he gets restless and begins a search for new places to live. He’s looking again now. We are just settling in. After numerous configurations, we finally found the right one for the living room furniture, and after much trial and error, discovered the perfect organization for the kitchen. We’ve found the best routes to the grocery store and other important places and found good doctors and dentists. 

In the last fifteen years, we’ve moved seven times. We lived in two different homes in my hometown in Oregon before moving to Arizona. We changed cities twice while in that state. Since coming to Idaho, we’ve relocated to three cities, and now he’s looking again. At least this time he doesn’t want to move out of state, just to another city. 

When we bought our current home, he promised we’d live here until the kids carried us out. So much for that promise. The moment I retired, things changed. No longer needing to worry about jobs, he wants to be in a smaller city closer to his favorite hunting spots. But will it be enough to deter his wanderlust? We aren’t getting any younger and the last move almost killed us. 

His answer to my concern, pods. In theory, it sounds easier than a self-driven U-Haul, but there is still the packing, the loading, and the unloading. We know the guys from Two Men and a Truck by their first names. Wonder what comments we’ll get when we call them for the fourth time. 

I have put down parameters. I refuse to move unless the next house is a huge improvement over our current home, and that will be quite the feat. Our home is custom built with many beautiful additions, with a perfect location (except for not being closer to hunting areas). We have great neighbors, a gorgeous walking trail, and we are not far from all the amenities we could ever want. It will be very, very hard to top all that. 

Rather than fretting and worrying about the move, I’ve left it in God’s hands. If He wills it, then so be it. Everything will fall into place. If not, then it won’t happen.

So far, every house my husband has been interested in hasn’t worked out. Either it already had a firm offer when we called the realtor, or something wasn’t right about the location, the property, or the structure. 

On our wedding day, I promised my husband I’d follow him anywhere. Perhaps I should have paid more attention when the lions roared the moment those words left my mouth. Maybe they were warning me to be careful with what I promised…

It Began With the Blind

Bill and I stood in the backyard of our beautiful new home and stared at the street lamp. 

I looked at Bill. "Why would anyone put duct tape on the backside of the light?"

"I don't know. It'd be a lot prettier without the tape."

"Yes, it would. Maybe after we are unpacked we can climb up there and pull that ratty tape off."

Shaking our heads at such insanity, we went back to unloading the U-haul.

Several grueling hours later, we crawled into bed. I rolled over and snuggled into my pillow. It was then the significance of the duct tape on the street lamp became apparent.

The Master Suite door, the one with the large glass window that led out to the back deck, was in a direct line with the street lamp. Due to that alignment, a shaft of of bright amber light seeped through a two-inch gap between the door and the blind, marched down the wall above the bed, continued across my pillow and slammed into my eyes.