You Do Not Know

 "He who observes the wind 

will not sow,

And he who regards the clouds

will not reap.

As you do not know 

what is the way of the wind,

Or how the bones grow 

in the womb of her 

who is with child,

So you do not know 

the works of God 

who makes everything.

In the morning sow your seed,

And in the evening 

do not withhold your hand;

For you do not know 

which will prosper,

Either this or that,

Or whether both alike 

will be good."

(Ecclesiastes 11:4-6)

It's easy to look around at our circumstances 

and cease the labor that is ours. 

The conditions don't look good. 

The weather may not cooperate. 

Maybe my seed will go to waste. 

Maybe my harvest 

will be ruined by a storm. 

I may miscarry the child. 

I don't know how God works. 

But He does. 

And He has placed me 

in a specific place 

with specific tasks. 

My business is to do 

what He's given me to do. 

The conditions are His to govern. 

The rain or the lack of it 

is in His hands. 

The wind is His to direct. 

The growing of the seed 

is His handiwork, not mine. 

Mine is just to sow. 

And it may be that the early seed

is not the one that grows. 

But the seed thrown out 

at evening might. 

Perhaps the harvest 

will come from both. 

The one who plants 

and the one who waters 

aren't the ones to look to here --

but God who gives the increase. 

We are to not grow weary 

in well-doing. 

Whatever the sky looks like 

in your neighborhood, 

put your hand to the work 

He has for you. 

In due time, 

there will be a harvest. 

"It pleased the Lord 

to send us contrary winds." 

(From George Whitefield's journal)

You Need To Tear Back

 

It was the first thought I had this morning, before I'd opened my eyes.

"You need to tear back that sock."

My heart sank.

The sock is one I've had on the needles for months and months.

There is nothing wrong with the sock.

It was beautifully knitted, and I was nearly to the toe.

It is a second sock, which means the first one has been finished 

and waiting for its mate for some time.

 

The problem is this: I knitted the first with a good plan. 

These socks would have reinforced heels and toes.

These socks are for me.

The yarn is wonderful: I love it.

The first one was finished easily, and it is perfect.

 

I was eager to begin the second sock, so I could wear them.

I knitted away busily during piano lessons, 

which is a wonderful way to make efficient (and pleasurable) use of my time. 

I knitted so busily I neglected to put the reinforcement yarn into the heel, 

and I didn't notice until I was well on my way to the toe.

I held the two socks in my hands, and felt the heels, and thought, "NO!"

 

The heels were different.

One is nice and cushy (and far more durable), and the other is nice and thin.

I laid the sock aside.

 

Periodically I pulled it out and looked at it sadly.

I considered attempting duplicate stitch darning on it 

to simulate the same effect, 

but I knew in my heart it wasn't going to be a solution for me. 

So I ignored it.

"I'm not changing ANYTHING!" my heart said, stiffening its neck.

And we just didn't talk about it or think about it anymore.

Sometimes I missed knitting on it, 

and the hope of owning the socks I had been working on with such anticipation.

But why should I lose all that work? 

The work was flawless.

It was the other sock that had a problem with it.

 

And it was this sock I sensed the Lord telling me to rip back this morning, 

before I was even awake to defend it,

and weeks after I had even thought about it.

I opened my eyes knowing I had a task to accomplish today.

A painful task, but a necessary one. 

Something I didn't want to do.

I had actually wondered to myself if I had enough of this yarn on hand 

to knit two more, just to avoid doing what I knew I needed to do.

But I had an order.

 

So, while I sat in my daughter's piano lesson, 

I frogged my perfect knitting in order to conform it to its mate.

It took me the full half hour to do it, 

and to get it put neatly back on the needles, 

carefully checking each stitch for twists, and correcting them.

Hours of knitting lost as I pulled back each row of two thirds of my sock.

 

And my mind has been working on it all day:

On the necessity of our conformity to Christ, our True Mate.

On the pruning back of what does not fit Him.

There are many things in each one of us 

that do not conform to His heart, His attitude, or His actions, 

and He will not leave them alone in us.

He's not going to settle for a slapdash fix.

He will undo us to set us right.

And all those hours of perfecting ourselves 

will have to be undone in order to make us truly His handiwork.

Give Him free reign to do it.

The sooner you stop fighting Him, 

the sooner you'll be fit for His use again.

"For whom He foreknew, 

He also predestined 

to be conformed to the image of His Son, 

that He might be the firstborn among many brethren."

(Romans 8:29)

"For our citizenship is in heaven, 

from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, 

the Lord Jesus Christ, 

who will transform our lowly body 

that it may be conformed to His glorious body, 

according to the working by which 

He is able even to subdue all things to Himself."

(Philippians 3:20,21) 

 

"Beloved, now we are children of God;

and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be,

but we know that when He is revealed,

we shall be like Him,

for we shall see Him as He is.

And everyone who has this hope in Him

purifies himself, just as He is pure."

(1 John 3:2,3) 

 

And so I ask you: 

is there anything He is asking you to rip back 

that it might be made to conform to His purpose?

Tearing Back

The Olive May Fail

 “Though the fig tree 

may not blossom,

Nor fruit be on the vines;

Though the labor 

of the olive may fail,

And the fields yield no food;

Though the flock 

may be cut off from the fold,

And there be no herd 

in the stalls--

Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,

I will joy 

in the God of my salvation.

The LORD God 

is my strength;

He will make my feet 

like deer’s feet,

And He will make me walk 

on my high hills.”

A number of years ago, at the beginning of a one year time period that was one of our worst years — a time of severe and long-lasting pain for me that held no end in sight — a physically miserable, emotionally devastating year filled with tests and imaging and surgery and a long recovery, I went to a pastors’ wives retreat. At the retreat, the Lord gave me a song. I had not yet walked through what was coming. And I knew I would be walking through something. 

“The joy of the Lord 

will be my strength

I will not falter, 

I will not faint

He is my Shepherd, 

I am not afraid

The joy of the Lord 

is my strength

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord 

is my strength

The joy of the Lord 

will be my strength

He will uphold me 

all of my days

I am surrounded 

by mercy and grace

And the joy of the Lord 

is my strength

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord 

is my strength

The joy of the Lord 

will be my strength

And I will not waiver, 

walking by faith

He will be strong 

to deliver me safe

And the joy of the Lord 

is my strength

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord 

is my strength”

You can be suffering pain, uncertainty, lack of resources, loss of relationships, and so many other miseries AND still be surrounded by His mercy and grace. I did not know if I would physically survive that year. And some days I turned my face to the wall and just laid there, heart open in wordless pain to the Lord. I fretted that my children would be motherless, and my husband widowed. And then I trusted them to Him who loves them better than me. I sat in a chair much of that year. 

And the Lord sustained me. He delivered me. He walked the valley with me, and brought me out again. 

You might think I don’t like hearing that song anymore. But you’d be wrong. 

When I hear it, and when I sing it, I remember how the Lord helped me endure when I couldn’t endure. How He gave me courage and taught me to trust Him when my prayers felt like they fell to the floor. How it isn’t abundant circumstances that give us abundant life. 

The joy of the Lord is my strength.

You Shall Rest

"Six days you shall work,
but on the seventh day you shall rest;
in plowing time and in harvest you shall rest."
~ Exodus 34:21

It is not only when the work is done,
or when there is nothing to do
that the Lord's people are to rest.
It is at the appointed time for rest.

In plowing time --
when we work because there is nothing to show yet,
and because our needs are great --
we must rest.

And in harvest time --
when our work is demanded because the time is short,
and delay could mean loss --
we must rest.

Rest is an act of faith.
It is a willful act of trust and hope.
Just as we must plow in hope,
we must rest in hope.

We rest because we are the Lord's people,
and He instructs us to rest
in plowing time
and in harvest.

"When no fruit is on the vine, I will trust in You."

God has blessed our rest.
It honors Him when we cease our striving --
and cease from driving others --
servants though they may be.
Our very animals are to be given rest.
Resting in faith is holy.

"Come to Me, all ye that labor
and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest.
Take My yoke upon you,
and learn of Me;
for I am meek and lowly in heart:
and you shall find rest unto your souls.
For My yoke is easy,
and My burden is light."
~ Matthew 11:28-30

 

The Mind-Numbing Work of Redemption

I do the same things All The Time.
I pick up the dirty clothes, and sort them into the hampers.
I button the buttons, and turn the socks right side out.
I spray the stains, and I fill the washing machine.
I take the wet clothes out, and straighten them,
and hang them on the clothesline to dry.
I take them down, and fold them, and send them to be put away.
And then I sort them out into the hampers again.

I rinse dirty plates, and stack them,
and I fill the dishwasher with them.
I unload the clean dishes, and put them in the cupboards,
and then do it again.
Sometimes three times a day.

I nurse the baby in the middle of the night,
and I feed him again in the morning.
In the late morning.
At noontime.
In the afternoon.
In the late afternoon.
At dinner.
In the late evening, just before he goes to bed.

I change diapers.
And again.
And again.
The progress of my days
is marked by piles of used diapers,
moved bookmarks,
dirty dishes, 
and clothes that need another washing.

I told my husband, "I don't know what purpose I have right now."
A friend asked me how I am doing, and I said, "I feel dull."
And I do.
I mean, seriously,
what point is there
in washing and washing and straightening
what is never clean,
and never straightened out?
You would think I do nothing at all
if you looked at the crumbs on my floor.
Because if I vacuum three times a day,
there are still crumbs on my floor.

I have been meditating on the Proverbs 31 woman,
whose equal I am not.
And I've been thinking about how she wraps herself up in food prep,
and laundry maintenance.
And I was contemplating two questions the other morning:
What is God doing in my life?
And how do I join God in His work?

What is God doing in my life?
He's drawing me into fellowship with Himself and with others.
He's refining me.
He's making me new in Christ.
He cares for me and my concerns.
He redeems me.
He washes me.
He comforts me.
He heals me.
He plants, waters, weeds, prunes...
He fills my darkness with His light.
He's working resurrection in me.

And how do I join Him in His work?
Kissing hurts, and healing wounds.
Mending what's broken.
Washing what is dirty.
Straightening what is crooked.
Feeding the hungry.
Planting and weeding and watering.
Bleaching out the stains.
And returning what has become unusable to a state of usefulness. 

Suddenly the laundry stains are meditative.
And the dishes, endlessly worthless with grime,
are also endless reminders of the restorative work He does in me.
The children needing comfort,
and the babies needing baths --
are praiseworthy reminders of the comfort He gives,
and the washing of the Word.

The dishes and the laundry are in constant need of redemption--
as I must constantly be redeemed from the sin that soils me.
My usefulness depends on my washing.

I looked down at the pants I was wearing -- a thrift store purchase.
A cast-off redeemed.
I put the same things back in their places every single day.
I bring order out of chaos.
And while I work in the kitchen, the toddler is trashing the living room.
And the shoes are scattered out of their baskets in the laundry room.
And it isn't going to end.
But as they mature (and we have other areas in disarray to set right),
they'll lend their hands to the work.

The material matters.
These mind-numbing, repetitive tasks that I do again and again
are the very same tasks He has set for Himself in me.

It Wasn't You

"So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God: 
and He hath made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house, 
and a ruler throughout all the land of Egypt."
Genesis 45:8

We forget that God can and will use the sinful actions and animosity of rivals
to further His plan in our lives.
That the angry brother, driven by jealousy,
can still be subject to God's control.
It doesn't excuse the sin to acknowledge the sovereignty.
God moves even through conflict and unhappiness and dysfunctional families.
In every one of the families of the patriarchs, there are issues.
The extra women. Hagar. Zilpah. Bilhah.
There are brothers at war.
Ishmael against Isaac. Esau against Jacob.
The sons of the handmaids against Joseph.

There are favorites played, between wives and between sons.
Marital strife -- even between Isaac and Rebekah,
who had no extras in their marriage.
But the children caused conflict between them.
Years of unsettled wandering and infertility.

And a Promise that did not fail.
A future and a hope that is still working in their children.
Being named the friend of God.  
Governed by God.  
Laughter.  
The father of faith.
The one the nation is named for.

"It was not you who sent me here," Abraham's great-grandson said.
"It was God."

Perhaps he had taken to heart
how God had moved and worked in his great-grandfather's family.
His grandfather's family.
His father's family.
He had moved them through conflict and animosity --
sometimes earned, and sometimes unmerited.
But always directed.

The conniving father-in-law.
The disdainful household help.
The jealous step-brother.
The fighting wives.
The cheating employer.
The murderous brothers.
All of them had been ultimately fitted into the intended will of God
and the Promise He kept promising them.

"And we know that to them that love God 
all things work together for good, 
even to them that are called according to his purpose."
Romans 8:28

His Mysterious Ways

In human economy, we pick the best man for the job
(or the most photogenic woman).
We stack up his or her gifts and talents against all the other applicants,
and tell the others they didn't measure up and are unwanted.

My husband and I visited with another pastor the other day,
and together wondered at His mysterious ways.
Some of us forget His ways are not our ways,
and His thoughts are not our thoughts.
We think He is altogether like us -- angry at what we are angry about,
and tickled pink over the things we like.
That He looks people over and says,
"That one is really special -- so superior to the others. I pick him."
But that isn't how He chooses.
I can't explain His choices, because they are absurd.

He chooses outcasts, and failures, and weaklings.
The ones who don't deserve to be considered.
The barren women, and the washed-up men.
We choose strength to do hard jobs.
He chooses David, a kid with a sling shot.

Why?
Why does He choose the things that are not?
Because it gives us no cause to boast.
Should even the most glorious among us be standing tall in His presence?
He is the One who ought to be worshiped, not ourselves.

When He works through our foolishness,
and ignores the wisdom of the wise,
it more clearly shows His power.
He does not need the cream of the crop.
He does not require a noble metal to show His artistry.
Mud will do.
His breath, His kiss of Life will raise us up.
Creation and Redemption both transform dirt from death to life.

O Lord: breathe Your image into me.
Let this nothingness reflect Your love and creativity.
In all the places I am empty, fill me.
Form my chaos into Your image.
You are Life, and You are Peace.

High and Low

I could be doing something important with my life,
instead of living out the normal --
feeding, sleeping,
working, playing,
going, staying,
fixing, and correcting.
But then I read:
"Do not set your mind on high things, 
but associate with the humble."
And who is more humble than a child?
Their self-importance does not stop them from dancing
when the music plays,
crying when they hurt,
eating when they are hungry,
even though they might get food in their teeth.
When I give them gifts, they wiggle in delight,
and let their faces share the joy with me.
They don't hide their drawings
to save themselves from criticism.
They leave their scraps of poetry littered through my house,
instead of shoved into a binder
in the back of a private shelf.

Perhaps it is for the important people to say,
"I could be wiping someone's nose right now,
or coaching them through using a toilet.
Why didn't I take that chance
to read a book to a five-year-old when I had it?
I could have had conversations about crayons and Play-doh
instead of these mundane philosophies
I have occupied my time with.
My life has been wasted in high places,
when I might have learned more
tying shoes,
and helping people out of their jackets,
and putting lotion on rashes,
and lying on my stomach watching ants,
and rubbing my hands on the bark of a tree,
and folding underwear."

An Injustice

He was despised and rejected--
a man of sorrows, acquainted with the deepest grief.
We turned our backs on Him and looked the other way.
He was despised, and we did not care.

Yet it was our weaknesses He carried;
It was our sorrows that weighed Him down.
And we thought His troubles were a punishment from God,
a punishment for His own sins!
But He was pierced for our rebellion,
crushed for our sins.
He was beaten so we could be whole.
He was whipped so we could be healed.
All of us, like sheep, have strayed away.
We have left God's paths to follow our own.
Yet the Lord laid on Him the sins of us all.
He was oppressed and treated harshly, yet He never said a word.
He was led like a lamb to the slaughter.
And as a sheep is silent before the shearers, He did not open His mouth.
Unjustly condemned, He was led away.
No one cared that He died without descendants,
that His life was cut short in midstream.
But He was struck down for the rebellion of my people. 
He had done no wrong and had never deceived anyone.
But He was buried like a criminal;
He was put in a  rich man's grave.

But it was the Lord's good plan to crush Him
and cause Him grief.
Yet when His life is made an offering for sin,
He will have many descendants.
He will enjoy a long life,
and the Lord's good plan will prosper in His hands.
When He sees all that is accomplished by His anguish,
He will be satisfied.
And because of His experience,
My righteous servant will make it possible
for many to be counted righteous,
for He will bear all their sins.
I will give Him the honors of a victorious soldier,
because He exposed Himself to death.
He was counted among the rebels.
He bore the sins of many and interceded for rebels.

And every time I read it, I am stunned all over again.
We looked the other way from Him,
turning our backs on His suffering--
but He was counted among us to intercede for us.
He is acquainted with the deepest sorrows... but they are our sorrows.
Our sin, our rebellion, our sickness,
our straying, our sorrow, our path.
His piercing, His crushing, His beating,
His whipping, His oppression, His slaughter,
His silence, His criminal burial.
The Lord's good plan.
Our righteousness: His work.
He is satisfied with the results of His anguish,
when He sees the accomplishment of it.
Our Hero -- better than a soldier.
His intercession saves us.

While I looked the other way, He did it.
While I turned my back, He interceded.
While I rebelled, He suffered.
While I strayed, He was crushed.
And doesn't it humble me?
And doesn't it exalt Him?
Shall He not have His reward?

To Your Advantage

"It is to your advantage that I go away;
for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you,
but if I depart, I will send Him to you."
~John 16:7

It seems so against reason.
But reading through John 14-17 again,
and focusing in on what concerns Jesus clues us in a little.
Jesus's concern in His teaching and prayer
is to bring us into fellowship with Himself and His Father.
To invite us to abide.
To cause us to abide -- to live with and in Himself.
While He remained, He kept them in His Father's name.
While the Holy Spirit remains, He will keep us in Jesus's name.

He prayed, "Sanctify them in Your truth. Your word is truth."
He had already told them, "When the Spirit of truth has come,
He will guide you into all truth."

How could it be to our advantage not to have Jesus with us?
Because the Holy Spirit's ministry is to unite us to Christ --
to be the medium through which we abide in Him;
to keep us;
to sanctify us in truth;
to make us one with Christ, who is one with the Father;
to unite each of us to each other.
Christ took that which is the Father's and made it ours.
The Holy Spirit takes from the Son and makes it ours.
Eternal life.
Union with the Father.
Sanctification.
The favor of God.
The love they share.

"As the Father has loved Me, I love you. Abide in My love."

The Father's love raised Him from the dead and made Him alive again.
Christ is our Resurrection and Life.
Jesus's love raises us from the dead and makes us alive.

Breathe in us, Holy Spirit, the life of Christ.
Be our unity, be our love.
Be our sanctification.
Hold us in the love of Christ, and the favor of God.

I Thirst

"They said therefore among themselves, 
'Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall be,' 
that the Scripture might be fulfilled which says: 
They divided My garments among them, and for My clothing they cast lots.' 
Therefore the soldiers did these things..."

"After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were now accomplished, 
that the Scripture might be fulfilled, said, 'I thirst!' 
Now a vessel full of sour wine was sitting there; 
and they filled a sponge with sour wine, 
put it on hyssop, and put it to His mouth. 
So when Jesus had received the sour wine, 
He said, 'It is finished!' 
And bowing His head, He gave up His spirit."
~ John 19:24, 28-30

I read these things to my children tonight, and wondered as I read them.
Jesus said at another time that He did always
those things that pleased the Father.
He gave up His spirit when He had fulfilled
every jot and tittle of God's will for Him.
Right down to His thirst.
His thirst was in perfect harmony with His Father's plan.
Psalm 22:15 describes it: My strength is dried up like a potsherd, 
and My tongue clings to My jaws; 
You have brought me to the dust of death.

All His desires submitted to His Father's will.
Even those desires that were pain to Him.
He would not leave until He had suffered those, too.
God's hand was involved
in the distribution of His belongings to His persecutors.
This stuns me to think of.
And I wonder, are my desires the Father's desires?
Am I thirsting because He's dried up my mouth?
It seems like we assume if we thirst we're not doing His will.
But perhaps this thirst, this need, this dried up strength
is what the Father has for me.

My grandmother, in her last few days here on this earth,
was receiving hospice care.
Too weak to leave her bed, the hospice nurse asked her,
"What is it you would like?"
And in her barely audible whisper, my grandma said,
"To do the will of the Lord."

With Patience

It began here:

"Solid food belongs to those who are of full age, that is,
those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern good and evil.
Therefore, leaving the discussion of the elementary principles of Christ,
let us go on to perfection,
not laying again the foundation of repentance from dead works 
and faith toward God,
of the doctrine of baptisms,
of laying on of hands,
of resurrection of the dead,
and eternal judgment..."
~Hebrews 5:14-6:2

I read this.
And I thought about it. 
And I said to myself, "It is obvious in this passage what the foundational things are --
the elementary principles we are to move on from.
But does it indicate what we are to move on to?"
So I read further.
Until I arrived at verses 11 and 12:

"And we desire that each one of you show the same diligence to
the full assurance of hope until the end,
that you do not become sluggish, but imitate those who
through faith
and patience
inherit the promises."

A new thought.
Hope.
Faith. 
Patience.
There's something to learn here.
New connections of very old-to-me scriptures began to form in my mind.
I thought I'd better study a little more about patience.

"Now the ones on the rock are those who,
when they hear, receive the word with joy;
and these have no root,
who believe for awhile
and in time of temptation fall away.
Now the ones that fell among thorns are those who,
when they have heard,
go out and are choked with cares, riches, and pleasures of life,
and bring no fruit to maturity.
The ones that fell on the good ground are those who,
having heard the word with a noble and good heart,
keep it and bear fruit with patience."

How did I never notice that last bit before?
Fruitfulness is related to patience.
Maturity. Patience.

"Therefore be patient, brethren, until the coming of the Lord.
See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth,
waiting patiently for it until it receives the early and latter rain.
You also be patient.
Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand..."
~James 5:7,8

I'd like to say more on this subject, but it will have to wait.
Patiently.

Not With Haste

"For ye shall not go out with haste, nor go by flight:
for the Lord will go before you
and the God of Israel will be your rear guard."
~Isaiah 52:12

I have been asked what the verse was. That's it.
The Lord brought it to our attention a number of times.
In fact, one day, I sat down next to a lady who was talking to someone else
about what the Lord had been using in her life to give her family direction,
and she began quoting this same verse.
I smiled, because I knew He sat me next to her just to hear her tell the story.

Sometimes the enemy tries to drive you.
To make you flee. 
But the Lord wants you to wait.
To trust Him.
To let Him lead, so you can follow,
and He will be your rear guard.

I think about Elijah and the dwindling brook.
How he waited until the Lord told him where to go.
He did not flee, though the brook ran dry.
He followed.
Water from the Rock in a rainless desert.
Manna laid down on the dew of heaven where no grain grows.

Hither By Thy Grace I'm Come

(This is not Ebenezer.)

This has been a year of upheaval. 

Jeff has been at a new job for four months, 
and was recently promoted. 

He spent a couple of months without a job, 
and then from September until February 

working part time for very low wages.

God has been good to us.  

Friends we had not seen or spoken to in over a dozen years 

found us and sent money which miraculously 
always arrived in the nick of time. 

Thousands of dollars were mailed to us, handed to us, 

refunded to us, or snuck into our mailbox. 

Roughly $13,641 over the last year, as best I can tell. 

Food arrived on our doorstep. 

Friends invited us over to gather from their gardens. 

We expected a sparse Christmas. 

But on Christmas day, the tree was surrounded with gifts. 

There was never a surplus, but we had enough. 

Just as the spontaneous gifts dwindled 
(from multiple sources all over the country), 

and the part time work was about to end, 
he got a phone call asking him 
to come to work for a company 
two and a half hours south of our home. 

We had been praying and waiting for some time 
for the Lord to give us direction.

Jeff began this season of commuting, 

living with my sister's family during the week, 
and coming back to us on weekends.  

The day before Jeff began his commuting we had to junk his car, 

so I had no transportation if I stayed in our house.  

The kids and I moved into my parents' house 
so we could finish the work on our house 

and put it on the market. 

The stagnant buyers' market. 

The market no one can sell in. 

One week after we put it on the market, 
our house sold in a bidding war 

(which I might add, my mother, sister, and children were praying for). 

And we got full price. 

Our realtor was stunned. 

(Actually, both our realtors -- we had one down south already 

who hadn't seemed to believe us when we told her 
we would be selling our home shortly 

and wanted to start looking down there.) 

On April 15th, we closed. 

We paid off the mortgage, the home equity loan, 
our auto loan, and everything else in sight.

When we talked to our loan officer and he pulled our credit report, 

we laughed out loud. 

Our credit score was extraordinarily high. 

Higher than we are capable of generating 

in a year where our income was less than half of what we've had 
for many years past. 

Higher than it was when Jeff had a steady job with a regular income.

The bank has decided we are a good risk. 

The love of God is a good risk. 

Our realtor observed that, 

"It's obvious Someone is looking out for you." 

Our loan officer wrote to me, 

"He’s watching over all of this to make sure it’s happening."

About the time that we gave up on finding a livable home 

large enough for us, in our small price range, 

in a location we could bear to live in, 

Jeff noticed a new listing. 

I was not in the area at the time, 
and asked him to photograph it well so I could see it. 

We made an offer via cell phones and email. 

I hadn't seen it yet. 

About the same time we were submitting the offer, 

a dear friend of ours sent Jeff a text 

that referenced the verse we had on the chalkboard 
in our bathroom for a long time. 

It was a verse the Lord used with Jeff in the middle of the night 
when we needed direction. 

I don't think our friend knew its significance to us, 

and I know he was not yet aware that we were offering on the house.

It has four bedrooms. 

Five if you count the one without a closet. 

Two bathrooms (a rarity among old New England homes -- 
the only ones we can afford to buy). 

Curved walls. 

Ceiling fans. 

And a lot of painting and floor replacements in our future. 

And it needs new wiring and a new furnace, 
and replacement windows. 

But it is livable after we mop. 

And it was shockingly priced 
considering the others we have seen in that price range. 

And we have it under contract. 

At lower than the listing price. 

And it will have a craft/guest room off the dining room. 

The BIG dining room.  

And a bay window. 

And lots of closet space. 

And good light. 

And it is within walking distance of two of my sisters. 

We are scheduled to close on it Friday morning.

I think I am going to name it Ebenezer.