We’re t-minus two days away from loading up a truck with the items we’ve accumulated over the three plus years of our marriage to a new place to call home. We’ve officially Marie Kondo’ed the apartment; it has been thanked for what it was for that season, and now we literally move on. As I write, boxes loom all around me, making leaving this place easy as it doesn’t feel like ours anymore.
This should be an exciting time, as I make endless lists of things to check off (a taskmaster like me enjoys this), soak in the fresh paint smells, and oogle over new appliances that embellish our kitchen. We look at new monthly numbers to consider, the opportunity to offer hospitality greater, and my mind swirls with change.
Joy is easily overshadowed by fear when it is not grounded in Christ. How very quickly we forget.
We wrote these words on the studs before drywall went up, a testimony not only to my love for the minor prophets, but also what we felt our own narrative had been for quite sometime. Now, here was this little bud on our own proverbial fig tree.
I could find any number of circumstantial things that could steal the thanksgiving from my lips even as I look straight in the face of a gift. My many “what-if’s” stifle the miracle that life has to offer, that true abundance that isn’t simply a material house, but the answer to years of prayers. Will I yet rejoice?
El Shaddai has continued to provide, even as I distrust the provision, or even the ways it is brought. I am still relearning the same lessons, and yet, there is a wealth of patience that is lavished on me in the tutoring. God has nothing to prove, and yet, he has proven faithful. Who are we that you are mindful of us?
Thanks be to God.