Friday, April 17, 2009
God can do amazing things. He can move the mountain that is His child's hardened heart. He can open doors that we, in sin, slam in His face.
He can turn a huge blessing into one of tremendous proportions.
A few months back, I wrote about my awe in the gift being offered to me: a huge home in which to raise my growing family. I wrestled with the Lord and my own feelings of inadequacy, and finally found myself coming out the other side of that strangely lonely tunnel. Yes, I admitted. My house is going on the market. I'm following you to this place, God. Just ... hold my hand, o.k.?
No sooner had I come to terms with this blessing then Mr. Blandings and I felt our hearts tugged in another direction altogether. A direction neither of us ever hoped to entertain this side of 50. A direction too good to be true.
What we really wanted, in our heart of hearts, was a farm.
Do it, we heard God's voice urge. I've gotten your attention. You've made the first step: the house is for sale. You never would have done it if I hadn't dangled that house in front of you. Now ... open your hands so that I can fill them.
To the outside world, I'm sure it looked like an amazing doubletake on our behalf. From a big suburban American Dream House to a couple of acres and some goats? To us, as a couple, the voice couldn't have been more audible had it been accompanied by a dove. God said put the house up for sale, and we did. We moved forward in faith and yes, He met us there.
It only took a few weeks for things to fall apart with the builder we were working with on the big house. All of a sudden, the door slammed shut. But our house was still listed. God, are you saying we should ...???
So we started looking. Turns out that now that our eyes had been opened to the prospect of a new home, possibilities were popping up all over. Possibilities in and under our price range.
Farms, people. Land. Acreage.
Small farms, to be sure. Five acre plots, just enough to get a couple of dairy goats, some chickens, maybe tinker in a few other animals. Enough room for a sizable garden with all the potatoes, tomatoes, corn and beans a family could eat.
But a farm.
My heart, my soul sings at the thought. If you know me at all, you know how spying a bird fills a place in my heart that nothing else can touch. How eating a tomato I've grown myself is the sweetest form of victory. How walking barefoot in good, black dirt is enough to send me into a state of bliss that can barely be punctured.
So you see, God is still very much in the business of stergo. And while my current home still sits on the market, and we still pray for a sale, I don't worry. God's timing, His path and His journey thus far have led me only to the green pastures I was seeking all along. Surely goodness and love will follow me all my days.