Cesspool

I’m so mad I could spit.  Actually, I’ve calmed down a little, but I was so mad I could spit.  I didn’t know why, but as I cleaned out the pool today, I got this feeling of gloom and doom.  The pool was so dirty, and it wasn’t getting clean with the vacuum, and I just felt despair.  Just as I was about to give up and throw the hose over the fence, I looked.  I mean my eyes finally focused on the object in the middle of the pool.  I had been cleaning all around it, but paying no attention to it.  It was a baby pool.  Not just any baby pool either, but the baby pool that had been sitting in our yard for nearly a year and a half.  The one that has collected rainwater, leaves, and dirt at various times in the year, not to mention mildew/mold in selected spots.  Yes, this filthy, disgusting collector of all organic material was floating in my pool!

What nonsense to think that I could try to get my pool clean with this cesspool floating around in it.   Of course the bigger question is, how did I miss it?  Why didn’t I think, “There is a dirty, rotten thing floating in my pool and I need to get it out, quickly!”

My pool is symbolic of my life.  It’s so easy to see that my pool is dirty, but so hard to focus on the thing that is causing it.  It’s easy to see that I’m not experiencing all that God has for me, but so hard to open my eyes to the sin that is causing it to be that way.  LORD, open my eyes that I can see to remove the log in my eye, or in this case, the baby pool in my pool.  Have mercy on me, LORD, a sinner.

It's About You

When you love someone, truly love someone, you want their good above your own.  This level of commitment is not for the fainthearted.  It means doing without so that the one you love can do with more.  Scripture depicts this process as dying to one’s self.  Hear the word: for God so loved the world, that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.  God loves us.  Us!  It is about us, because that’s what it’s like when you deeply love someone, it’s more about them than you.  When we love God, our focus is on pleasing Him, and our relationship becomes reciprocated.  We reach a level where we become God’s friend.  He is so patient with us, though.  His love is faithful even when we are not.

He didn’t wait until we were ready to love Him back to love us first, and He still doesn’t. Thankfully, our actions have no bearing on His love, for it says, “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”  Christ laid down his life for others, and we can choose to follow in His example when we lay down our lives for others.  Loving Christ means that we seek the good of others above the needs of our own.  The cool thing is, that when we are seeking to love others, God is seeking to provide for our needs.  He does not forget us.  Never. In this example, dying to self means that we will refuse to seek our own needs, but we trust that as we meet others needs that God will meet ours.  The irony is that, in a cirlce of humility, He often uses other people to meet those needs, and it glorifies God. Loving our brothers, means we love God. Loving God, means we love our brothers. The two can’t be separated.

While Christ is our example, He’s also our God. I don’t expect my children to love me more than I love them.  I don’t expect expensive gifts on birthdays, lavish meals, or pampering from them.  They are 10 and 13; I expect them to concentrate on growing mature.  I have an unreciprocated love relationship with them right now.  I do more for them, because I love them more.  How much more does our heavenly Father love His dear children? I am limited in my earthly body, unlike God, I can’t see the big picture and all the ways He is working behind the scenes. He knows that.  He even knows how much it frustrates me, and that I feel guilty when I don’t know as much as He does.  He’s patient with me when I feel this way, and gives me encouragement when I seek Him.  One word from Him is better than a thousand from someone without knowledge.  And a few words from a well meaning friend, are better than none from someone who judges me.  I love the way He loves me.  It is about me.

Ripe

I love Jesus.  If I didn’t, there is no way I would have eaten macaroni and hot dogs for dinner.  Today is the first day of this fast which actually felt like a fast. 

I spent my $7, $7 on strawberries today.  My neighbor and I drove up to the quaint, hill country town of Fredericksburg for some U Pick ‘Em strawberries.  This normally would have been the season for peaches, but the unseasonably cold weather earlier in the spring produced a bum crop of peaches, and extended the life of the strawberry.  I really wasn’t even thinking about my seven fast, but when we went to pay for the fruits of our labor, and it came up $14, it seemed perfect.  Seven for me and seven for my kids.  We sat at the picnic table under the shade tree and ate until our hearts were content.

This evening I agreed to babysit my friend’s two girls while she and her husband got away for a birthday dinner celebration.  I told her not to worry about dinner for the girls, that we’d get something when they got here.  I thought maybe we would go to McDonald’s, but then I remembered I had already spent my $7 for the day, so I couldn’t justify buying a dinner for me.  When I asked the girls what they wanted for dinner, the four year old answers, “I like mac and cheese, and hot dogs.”  Under the terms of my fast, I can buy food at the grocery store for meals, I just can’t buy something for me specifically.  If I buy it, it has to be a community item.  The thought of eating mac and cheese for dinner, when I know that I have enough money in my wallet to get sushi is not easy, and if I didn’t love Jesus, I would have surely feasted on sushi while my little guests ate their dinner of choice.  You see, mac and cheese is below me.  I’m not a kid, and I’m not poor, and I don’t have to eat mac and cheese.  Sushi tastes better, is better for me, and makes me feel kinda hip when I eat it.

But then there is Jesus.  Listen to what He said:

And when the hour came, he reclined at table, and the apostles with him.  And he said to them, “I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer.  For I tell you I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.” And He took a cup, and when he had given thanks he said, “Take this, and divide it among yourselves.  For I tell you that from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.”  Luke 22: 14-18

You see in a sense, Jesus is fasting for us.  He is waiting until the fulfillment of the kingdom of God to share the Passover meal with us.  When we fast, we are joining Him in His current state.  I think that is why our prayers are fast tracked when we fast.  We are joining ourselves with our LORD, and our hearts are joined together in a covenant relationship.

I’m in a covenant relationship with the friend that asked me to babysit today.  I pray for her and her husband every day.  I would have cancelled any plans to help her out.  All she needed to do is ask, and I would have done it.  This is the same relationship that we enter into with Jesus, when we join Him in a fast.  How much more is He willing to “drop everything” to help us out.

Day Three

Today was day five of the spending fast, despite the title of the blog.  When I woke up this morning, I told God that I didn’t think that I had faith to believe that He could do something big three days in a row, and I asked Him if He would give me the faith to believe it.  Then I prayed and asked him who and what I was supposed to spend the $7 on today.

He helped me out by letting Whitney decide the first item.  I would watch her perform in her classroom play. However, with Whitney there is always an angle.  She starts by asking a serious of questions, which seem to have nothing to do with each other, and by the time you’ve answered them all you are so worn down, you are happy to give her whatever she wants.  I’ve gotten wise in her 10 years of life, and now I cut to the chase and say, “Just tell me what you want.”  “A donut, because last time when you came to my thing at school, Sean K’s mom brought him a cake pop from Starbucks, and Kate’s mom brought her a donut, and they both ate them right in front of my face, and were like, ‘Mmmm,’ right in front of me.” Yeah, she's really that good.  I'm doomed when she becomes a teenager.  “You want a donut?” “Yes.” “Are you sure?  Really sure? Ok, I’ll bring you a donut.”

Then, I thought about Dessea. Dessea’s a girl in Whitney’s class whose dad is in prison.  And Raven.  On the field trip neither Dessea nor Raven had money to spend in the gift shop.  And I thought about how devastated Whitney felt when someone ate a donut in front of her, and about the lesson I am learning through this fast about spending on others when I spend on myself, and I couldn’t just bring only Whitney a donut.  I’d have to bring Dessea, and Raven, and Kate, and Addy, and Sean K……I’d have to bring donuts for the whole class.  I didn’t tell Whitney, I just kept it a secret.

Shipley Donuts wanted $6.50 for one dozen of donuts.  Dang it.  I needed two, and I was sure that while I was trying to decide what I should do, the ladies behind the counter were making fun of me in their native language.  (They may not have been, but it sure felt like it.) So, I left and was glad I did when I found a big ole bargain at Walmart.  $3.49 for a dozen of assorted (the good stuff) donuts.  In other words, 2 dozen for 7 bucks! Yes, pick me!  I also wanted a donut, so I used my first purchase of the day on myself to buy a $0.50 donut for me, and a $.050 cherry turnover for Whitney’s teacher.

After the play, I ran to Walgreen’s to get mailing envelopes.  As I was walking into the store, I told myself; this isn’t for me, so it doesn’t count towards my $7 total.  I needed envelopes for the dogs’ paperwork to send to Hawaii.  So really, it was for the dogs.  At least that’s what I told myself. “Right, God, it’s for the dogs?  That’s how I see it.  That’s not how you see it?”  “Ok, I’ll count it towards my seven.”  And all the while I’m thinking who would ever want a package of envelopes anyway.  Someone was going to be like, “Oh, a package of envelopes, you shouldn’t have…really, you shouldn’t have, what am I going to do with a package of envelopes?”

As I start to drive away, I realize I’m going to the post office.  People at post offices need envelopes. So, maybe it’s not such a stupid idea after all. In getting my own package ready to mail, I couldn’t tell that anyone needed an envelope.  As a last ditch effort, I asked a lady in line if she wanted them, and she said, “Sure, I could always use envelopes.”  Not incredibly dramatic, but at least I gave them to somebody.

It’s already lunch time by the time I’m driving to the next place.  I tried to do the mental math (not easy for visual thinker me, and especially while I’m driving) fifty cents plus $2.19…that’s …..and I feel like I’m being chastised for being chintzy. Ok, $3.00.  So, that gives me…uh….$4 left.  I told you, I’m not good with math in my head.  I wonder if I could get lunch for $4?  As I drive past Church’s Chicken I felt like I should stop, but I wasn't very hungry so I kept going, and wouldn’t you know, it seemed like everyone was trying to get in my lane with me in it.  “What’s going on?”  And suddenly, I felt out of God’s will for not stopping for lunch.  Back to Church’s I went.  I really hoped I could afford a soda with lunch.  A chicken sandwich combo on the menu looked especially divine.  Guess the price?  You got it.  $4  I order two with Dr. Peppers and fries.  When I get to my destination, I looked for anyone to give it to.  I asked a lady in the parking lot if she had lunch, but she had already eaten.  Then there was a car behind the building sitting with the doors open.  A man and his granddaughter were waiting for someone inside.  I asked if they were hungry, and they had already eaten.  I drove around to the front, parked, and got out.  I walked around, and felt ridiculous for carrying a chicken sandwich and a Dr. Pepper, with no one to give it to.  I prayed, “Lord, is there anyone that needs this sandwich?” I turned around to go back, and a man joined me on the side walk.  He was carrying a subway sandwich and a Dr. Pepper.  He seemed nice, and I let him pass me.  Just as he was about to go inside a door, I asked him, “Where are you going with that lunch?”  “I work here,” he replied.  “Is there anyone else in there?”  “What do you need,” he asked me?  “I need to find someone to give this sandwich to.” “There’s no one in there that needs a sandwich,” he confidently told me.  Then I saw a lady from the inside looking at us suspiciously.  “But are there other workers in there,” I asked?  “Yeah, but no one needs lunch, I don’t think…” “Just trust me, someone needs this sandwich,” and I practically forced him to take it, if only, so I didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

You know after I gave away the envelopes and the sandwich today, I felt relieved.  I was under so much stress when they were still in my possession.  I didn’t need two packages of envelopes, and I didn’t need two chicken sandwiches.  Having more than I needed was a burden.  Today I didn’t get to see the rest of the story.  I didn’t get to see who ate the sandwich, and I don’t know if the lady at the post office truly needed those envelopes.  I didn’t see the big picture, I was only the middle man or better yet, middle lady. However, I can trust that my God does see the big picture, and because He showed me yesterday at how perfectly orchestrated His plan was,  I can be assured His plan today was just as perfect.  I think that is called growing in my faith.  Uh, huh…the answer to my prayer this morning.  Thanks God, I get it.

What If?

I can tell you right now, this is a hard one to write. 

I was challenged by a friend to give my desires for the “right buyer” for our house a deeper look.  So, one afternoon, I sat on my bed, and I asked God about the desire for a child to swing on the swing set, and why I had the desire when it didn’t seem that the right buyers would fulfill it.  What was revealed to me was overwhelming, it brought so much pain with it that I couldn’t even stay in my room, but tore down the hallway, stopping only when I could see the view outside my house.  I was sobbing, at a desire that I had so long ago.

I always thought that Drew and I would have three children.  He came from a family of three, and I came from a family of three, and when people would ask me how many children we wanted, I would always say, “Three.”  I didn’t realize that Drew and I had never really discussed this. When at a get together with friends we were asked that question, and I answered, “3,” like always, and Drew answered, “2,” we gave each other strange looks.  I of course, corrected him, and explained my canned response of how I came from a family of three and Drew came from a family….”  When we got in the car, I asked him why he said that.  He really only wanted two kids. Ha! In my arrogance, I figured God would change his heart.

Whitney was six months old when Drew asked me if I wanted more children.  My answer, “I want more children, but I don’t ever want to be pregnant again.” Pregnancy for me is best described as “a step above death.”  The word “miserable” doesn’t do it justice. I didn’t want to be pregnant again, but I would have done it one more time.  However, this answer was a good enough response for him to sign up for a permanent solution. I grieved. One night, I prayed and cried out to God, and I felt God comforted me with this promise:  I am able to give you another child.  I believed Him. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t take away the longing, and for six years I struggled with wanting another child.  In the homeschool group in Germany, the moms would ask me, “So, how many children do you have?”  I would answer with, “Two.”  The next question always was, “Do you plan on having more?” When I responded in the negative, then would follow, “Ohhhhh.”  Which really means, “Selfish.”  So, I would try to justify myself, with a quick response of, “I really wanted three, but my husband only wanted two.” To which the response was, “Mmmhmm,”  interpretation: “Liar.”

Seriously?  It’s almost comical.  It was like the modern day version of Abram and Sarai.  I couldn’t believe I was being judged for only having two children. The term insult to injury was now a haunting reality.

And then, about four years ago, it stopped.  The  longing.  It was just like when people describe the biological clock, and mine just stopped ticking.  For the first time in six years, I was happy and content with only the two children that the Lord had given me.

So now, I’m standing in my house, staring out the window with the mixed emotions of the deep pain of never receiving a wanted child and the scared to death emotion that God would give me my desire now, after being content for so many years.  Ironically, I’m staring into the space in my front yard where the “wall of bitterness” used to reside.

A previous owner of the house’s car caught on fire in the driveway.  He could see the neighbors looking at him from their windows, but no one came to offer any help.  He couldn’t forgive their unfriendliness, and so he built a wall, a literal one, to match the figurative wall in his heart.  A seven feet high, and 12 feet long expanse separated him from his neighbors and the pain he felt from that day.  It extended from the sidewalk in the middle of the house and onto the driveway several feet.  The neighbors say it took years to build.  The construction allowed the eccentric owner to drive his car behind the wall and walk up to his house without ever having to see his neighbors. 

Can you imagine how this physical reminder reinforced the bitterness in his heart every day?  Can you imagine the misery of living with all that unforgiveness in your heart?  What pure misery. And is it any surprise that my husband knocked it down piece by piece with a sledgehammer in his hand and a furry in his heart?

This was the only place in the house that could withstand the anguish of my heart at the moment. Somehow my pain was absorbed in that spot that had been hidden behind a wall for so long.  Even though I was exposed to the world, I could cry, knowing that my pain was understood. My God sees me.  He knows me better than I know myself.  Some things are better hidden.  Some things are not for us to know right now, because we are not able to deal with the pain.  In His timing He reveals all truth to us, after He strengthens us to receive it.

I am content for my lot in life.  I pray for other people to have children, and God hears my prayers.  He uses me in this way, and He is glorified in it.  He uses my pain, for His glory, and the benefit of others.  He is such a good God.  He sees me, and I will see Him.

The Least of These

 I prayed about who and what I was supposed to spend $7 on today.  I did the usual morning routine by taking each child to school, and then I vacuumed the pool, and took a shower.  After showering, I had a craving for a coke.  (Coke is what we call all sodas in Texas, but in this instance, I really did want Coca Cola coke.) So I asked God who else wanted a coke?  Teresa, is what I thought I heard.  This is cool, because Teresa is the sweetest lady I could ever care to meet.  I’ve told her things that I haven’t had the freedom to tell many, one because she has the faith to believe it, and two because she prays for me.  But Teresa is trying to lose weight, and I thought, “that wouldn’t be very nice to bring her a coke.”  Then I thought, “I really want a breakfast taco AND a coke!” “God, who would want a breakfast taco and a coke?” Teresa.  “So, then I really argued… “God, Teresa is trying to lose weight, what kind of a friend would I be if I brought her a breakfast taco and a coke?”  So, I started walking away, and all I heard was, “Teresa, Teresa.”  So, I was like, “I gotta hurry and get Teresa her breakfast taco, and coke.”

Teresa is the secretary at our church.  I came in, brought her the taco and coke, and explained it something like this… “I really wanted this, and this week if I buy something for myself, I have to buy it for someone else, and so here you go.”  She was appreciative, and I stayed and we talked a while.  I love talking to Teresa.  I really do.  I don’t even think she knows how blessed I am to talk to her.  I’ve tried to explain it to her, but I don’t think she really gets it.  She blesses me everytime we meet.  I love her to pieces.

I get around to explaining to her a little about 7, and she tells me about her morning.  She really wanted a vanilla coke.  The youth pastor has a stash of them in his office.  He wasn’t around, so she took the key and was going to get one out of his office.  As she was doing this, she was grumbling to the Lord about some relatives of hers that were being deceitful in the stories they were telling about her and her husband.  Then she felt like God spoke to her, and said that she was complaining about her relatives who were being deceitful, but she was about to take a coke that didn’t belong to her.  So she turned away, without getting a drink.  I imagine that this happened close to the time that God was telling me to give her a coke.  It makes perfect sense why He was so adamant. She also said that she hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning.  She was going to stop by McDonald’s on the way to work, but she didn’t. (She didn’t share with me why, and I’m guessing there is more to the story that I don’t need to know.) So God used me to bless one of His thirsty and hungry children today.

I’m so glad I stayed around to hear the rest of the story, and I am truly amazed that God cares this much for His children. He can use a clueless person like me to reward His child for a small act of obedience.

Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?”…And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”  Matthew 25: 37, 40

Literal troubles

  Last Monday I was depressed.  I just couldn’t shake this despairing feeling of not having any offers on the house.  My husband told me it would be ok, and even though I was praying, I couldn’t get out of my funk.  Then, I thought about Jen’s story in the book where in her adoption journey, she would have days where she broke down in tears.  Others would tell her to pray for her child, that something significant was happening.  So I thought maybe I could apply the same principal to my situation, and I started praying for the buyer.  In one of my prayers I had this thought; what if the buyer couldn’t come because the money they needed to buy our house was still being held up.  I prayed that God would allow this person to get their money.  That afternoon, I got a call from a Tim, and Tim seemed unusually level headed.  Not like most of the calls that I had gotten prior.  He asked good questions, and asked if he could come see the house the next day.  Later that day I got a call from Louis, who was a realtor, and wanted to bring a client by the next day also. 

I had said before that I wasn’t going to freak out about not having a buyer until May 1, and I had already resolved that I would fast on May 1 if the same situation wasn’t met.  Monday night I kept waking up for no reason except a disturbed spirit.  I hadn’t had any caffeine, which is the usual culprit, and I was getting a little annoyed.  I can be kind of grouchy when I get woken in the middle of the night, and while I’m not proud of this, I finally said, “Jesus, what do you want from me?”  After several more dream/wake episodes, I told Him that I would fast the next day.

Tim came, and he said he was interested.  Louis came with Carol, and she seemed really interested.  Actually, they stood at the end of our sidewalk and talked for about 20 minutes, which was awkward.  Then around 6 o’clock we get a call from Lisa, who is represented by the realtor we affectionately call the crazy lady. J She walked into my house one day and told me that we could raise the price $10,000 so that she could list it and we could pay 6% commission.  I flat out told her, “No.”  I’m the blunt one in the family.  Maybe she is not used to being told no, or maybe she is not used to people caring about how much the buyer has to pay, but she looked really shocked at my answer.  I smoothed it over, and we parted on amicable terms. Anyway, Lisa, called and asked if she could come over.  I didn’t see her when she walked up, but I knew she was here from my daughter screaming, “It’s Julia!  It’s Julia!” Julia is a little girl in my daughter’s Sunday school class.  She comes to church with her dad, her parents are divorced.  Lisa is Julia’s mom.

I should probably also mention that just before we put the house on the market, we had one warm day in South Texas.  During that day, we realized that our air wasn’t working.  We had a similar problem last year, and had to pay for them to fill the unit with Freon, but no leak was found.  This time, however, the service man was very thorough, and found a leak in the coil.  We had to consider the option of filling it up with Freon for $500, a temporary fix, or replacing the coil for $2700, the permanent fix.  We were really tempted to just fill it up with Freon, that’s obviously what the previous owners did to us.  We had been saving up money to get the pool resurfaced, and $2700 would mean that we would have to put it off again.  Even though it was hard, we decided to replace the coil, because we felt that God would bless our decision to do the honorable thing.  When I told a lady at my church about it, she said, “God will bless you, and who knows you may end up selling to someone in the church.”

I thought about this immediately when I heard, “It’s Julia!”  Furthermore, Lisa told me that she had her house on the market for many months, and on Monday she got two offers. Remember my prayer on Monday? That the buyer would get their money? A little weird.  She liked our back yard, and wanted a place for Julia to play, but I don’t think my house suited her tastes.  Still, I held out, because it just seemed like my prayers for the buyer of the house the day before were answered with her.

Wednesday night I was thinking about Carol, the lady that came with Louis the realtor.  She was in a bad situation, and it was a hard one for me.  Those that know me know I am thrifty.  I loathe debt. These people were buying another house before they even put their house on the market.  They were in this situation from mismanaging their finances. It also really annoyed me that this lady suggested that she would put air condition in the laundry room, even though I told her it was a good thing because it didn’t change the temperature of the house in the summer when you were drying clothes, and you could save on electric bill.  That’s right.  I judged her ALL over.  And just as I was saying that I wouldn’t sell our house to them, Louis called to give us a verbal offer.  They wanted to give us our asking price, and have us pay $ 4800 of their closing costs.  Really?  That just annoyed me even more.  Now, not only have they mismanaged their money, they want us to pay the way for them to get out of it.

My husband tried to talk to me, and tell me that this wasn’t a bad offer, and finally, I conceded, and said I would accept it.  Before I went to sleep, I prayed that God would set my heart on Hawaii. Instead I woke up at 3 in the morning with this prayer on my mouth, “God, please bring the right buyer.”  I couldn’t sleep, I got up and had my quiet time, and during that time, I felt led in this way: that the buyer would not have a realtor and would have a child to swing on the swing set.  And I literally cried for this person, and the child that would swing on the swing set.

When my husband woke up, I told him about my prayer time, and I pleaded with him to give me one more day for God to bring the right buyer, the one with no realtor and a child to swing on the swing set.  Amazingly enough; he agreed.

No one came that day, but when the realtor sent the offer, he forgot to attach it.  Then my friend called me and told me the real estate attorney that we would be working with left the office for the day, and the office would be close for Fiesta the next day.  We were leaving the next day to go to Drew’s uncle’s lake house for the weekend, so I called Louis and told him the offer wasn’t attached, and we wouldn’t be able to get it to the attorney until Monday.  He said he would send it.  We waited all Friday, and it never came.  I was starting to get excited.  If we didn’t get the offer we would have the opportunity to let someone come on Monday who might be the “right” buyer.  Saturday the email came, but only the first page came through on our phone.  On the ride home Sunday, I got an email from someone inquiring about the property, then a call from a realtor setting up an appointment to come, and while we were at the lake we had a call from another lady who said she would come see the house on her lunch break on Monday, and we already had a showing scheduled from someone that called on Friday. When we got home on Sunday, we had another call.  Things were looking up, and we were certain that we would get an offer where we wouldn’t have to pay closing costs.

Monday came, and only one of the 3 scheduled showings showed.  They weren’t interested at all, and I was still holding out for the person with no realtor and a child to swing on the swing set.  I got a call from the lady that had emailed me on Sunday, and we set up a time for her to come that evening. She knew that we had an offer and we would have to make up our mind the next day.  Last year, I wrote what I call The Story of Our House, a story of how God miraculously showed us to buy this house. I sent it to a friend of mine back in Georgia who wasn’t a Christian.  At the end of the letter I gave a short gospel message.  I had already decided that I was going to leave a copy of this story in the house for the new buyer to read. On Monday I opened up the file to reread it.  And I felt like God was telling me to print it.  So I did.  Then a few hours later, I really felt like He wanted me to give it to this lady who was coming to look at the house.  I wasn’t really comfortable with that, especially because it would seem really weird to give someone this story before they knew that they were the owner of the house.  At 6:30 just shortly before she was to arrive, I finally put the letter in an envelope, sealed it and left it on the counter.  She seemed really interested in the house, and she told us that she had a four year old daughter. We talked numbers, she asked questions about taking care of the pool, and things seemed promising.  I decided I was not going to give her the story, if she was the right buyer, I would give her the story after she decided to buy the house.  And then she did the strangest thing, she looked around the kitchen, and she asked, “So what made you buy this house?”  It was then that I gave her the letter, and told her that I wasn’t going to give it to her, but she asked, and the letter would answer the question.  I told her it was the story of our house, and that I had written it for a friend, and she almost cried.  She left, and said she would let us know one way or the other what her decision was.  We haven’t heard from her.

The next day, we sent the offer from the people in the bad loan situation to the attorney.  That morning I got an email from a friend asking me to pray for her.  She felt God was telling her to buy a house, and she was praying for the sellers to pay her closing costs.  I shared this with Drew.  He said he had just been praying about whether he should counter the offer with not paying for all of the closing costs.  He felt like this was God saying to just accept their offer.

On Monday, I felt like God answered my prayer about Hawaii.  I started looking up houses, and just generally felt happy about moving there.  I’ve even realized that if Carol is the right buyer for the house that God will let her house sell, and we won’t be making her financial situation worse by allowing her to have two mortgage payments.

Drew and I have decided that God used my prayers for “the buyer of the house” to answer some specific prayers in the people that he brought to look at the house. He says that I thought I was praying for the buyer, but really it was the certain people that God wanted me to pray for, and he says that’s how he knows that God has a sense of humor, because I took it literally, and he knows that God knows how literal I am.

We are still waiting for all the pieces of the loan to be completed.  The appraisal, the inspection, and termite inspection.  Any of these could kill the deal, but we trust that God already has this planned in advance.  I’ve learned that God brings people into our life for a reason, and I hope that I am more sensitive to understanding how He is working in that situation so I will be most effective.  I hope that Lisa finds the house that points her towards true joy, and I hope that the lady with the 4 year old finds the encouragement to believe that God is taking care of her.  I hope that Carol gets out of her financial burden, and I hope that God continues to use me to bring others closer to Him.

Just Love

It has taken me a while to write this blog.  Part of me feels that I didn’t deserve it, and that made it hard to share, because I felt completely unworthy of the message contained within. 

During the possessions fast, I decided that I would approach 7 homeless people and ask them what their biggest need was in the hopes to be able to fulfill that need for them.  I knew I was taking a big risk, but I just felt that God had given me the idea, so I wasn’t really afraid.  That is, until it came time to do it, and then I was plenty afraid.

I didn’t complete the challenge.  I felt kind of rotten about that, and really, I wanted to know…I wanted to know what a homeless person’s biggest need was.  I thought that some might say they needed a house, some might say they missed a relationship with a child, and some might just needed a meal.  But I was really hoping to go away with an answer.  Silly me, to think that I was qualified to peek into the hearts of men.

The next day after the failed homeless project attempt, I was driving to the grocery store.  It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just a trip to pick up a few items.  I was thinking about the homeless experiment, and kind of feeling like a failure, and still pondering on the question, “What is your biggest need?”  when the Answer came to me.  Love.  Just that simple.  Not just homeless people, but everyone’s biggest need.  The divorced mom raising three kids, the homosexual with the equality rights logo profile pic, the woman that scowls at me in the grocery store.  Tree hugger, business executive, the Pope, and the President.  Everyone.  The biggest need of everyone is LOVE. 

I look at people differently now.  The friend that excludes me from a lunch date, her biggest need is love.  The lady that won’t let me pass her with my shopping cart, her biggest need is love. The person that cuts me off on the freeway, his biggest need is love.  I may not be able to tangibly communicate love to every person in a way that they can feel it, but I can smile, and I can be patient, I can keep from judging.  I can respond nicely even when they haven’t been nice to me.  I can respond with love.

Part of me is like, “How did I make it to 40 years of age, without realizing that people just want to be loved?”  And part of me is incredibly humbled to be entrusted with such an important realization.

Love.  It’s just that simple.

“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.”   I John 3:16