I have been longing to write for months… Probably three months. About everything. About religion and politics and faith and how one interacts with the other. About human failures and fallacies and my own strong opinions. About life.
But life is more than what we write or think, and certainly takes priority over social sharing, so even now, as I write, I begin with that: life. And life’s changes in the last three months. Bear with me if I ramble a bit, for there is much to put into a small space.
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| Life changes! (32 weeks toward one BIG change!) |
As I look back over life, I see the truth of Ecclesiastes more and more, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” I was Daddy’s girl, the tough ranch girl when I first began to “grow up.” Then I became a college student and wished someone would pay ME to continue. I taught school - and loved it! I worked summer camp and moved to the city. Colombia became my second home and took a piece of my heart. And most recently, I became a Santa Rosan, where even the well educated use Spanish phrasing in their English. I’m so thankful for each and every experience, the shaping, the lessons, and the friends.
We saw the changes on the horizon at the beginning of this year 2018. We learned we were expecting our little girl. We learned we could move to Claunch. We learned that maybe long-term investment for “retirement” was not so intimidating as it seemed at our “advanced age.” The months since have whirled, truly feeling like the NM wind accompanying every season.
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| Good-bye Classroom ;-/ |
I said I had been “tired” from teaching every May and now I am “re-tired,” from that! :-) It was a great year to end on - sweet kids, supportive parents, a staff of friends, and a wise principal. As August rolls in, I wonder what I will do without that challenge and joy, but I look back with a smile. Seth ended his Santa Rosa mechanic-ing business on a similar note, with April and May the best months of our time in Santa Rosa and a sincere appreciation for both customers and fellow shops. In June, we left. Leaving Santa Rosa was sad in a way - I loved my house, I had some of the best friendships I’ve ever experienced, I enjoyed my lifestyle. But for me, it was leaving to come - home.
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| A season past |
Home. 10 miles from the little town which I lived near all of my childhood. 17 miles from my parents. In a house that belonged to two elderly maiden ladies whom I loved to visit when I was little because they’d give me a coke while my dad discussed ranch business with them. They were amazing ladies, one having trained fighter pilots for WWII, the other a scientist who helped discover penicillin. As I grew older I cleaned for them, pulled weeds, and learned to enjoy their bookshelf and knick knacks from all over the world. And they made me feel like the best cowgirl in the world because I could work on their ranch alongside all the men.
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| Home |
Home. In a place where Seth has said, since the first time we visited, “That is one of the prettiest spots I’ve ever seen.” And it is, especially with God’s housewarming gifts of weekly rains leading to green grass, fat cows, and full dirt tanks. Home, where my child can visit her great-grandmother regularly and grow with the joy of extended family and rural community. Never has that baby gotten excited in the womb like she did on my uncle’s porch eating homemade ice cream one hot afternoon :-)!
Home. Where each project we do is something we wonder if we will keep for the rest of our lives. Home, where Seth can apply his wide range of skills - from mechanic to electric - to ranching, while learning the parts of ranching he doesn’t know (I might like riding around talking cows with my Dad, too!). Home, where a shop built to Seth’s specs will allow our Santa Rosa business, and all the resources God provided there, to be continue.
Home. A home provided by God with not only what we need, but all we could want. Our house was built in 1917, finished in the 1940s, yet the last people to live here did an incredible amount of work to fix it up - so we can enjoy little projects (well, redoing the hardwood floors was a big one!) instead of trying to survive while we make it livable! Even to the tiniest detail, like allowing us to use my grandparents’ almost brand new dining set to replace our worn out chairs, God has gifted us.
Throughout this moving adventure, we’ve come to wonder, “Why are we so blessed?” I, especially, look back on my life and wonder how it has come to be that I am God’s favorite. For I am. Of course, my dad says he’s God’s favorite, and I have a friend who says she’s God’s favorite. And God doesn’t fit in a box, for really He calls all those in Jesus His “chosen people” (I Peter 2:9), so we are all His favorites.
Being God’s favorite doesn’t mean a trouble free life, even though my blessed feeling right now might seem so. Actually, Jesus said “Blessed are the poor, blessed are those who hunger, blessed are those who weep….” (Luke 6:20 - onward). That doesn’t sound like feelings I want. My heart hurt this summer as we wept with extended family for a precious 17 year old killed in a car accident. Jesus said I would have troubles, but He said the poor and hungry and weeping are blessed for having the kingdom of God, blessed for that which is coming. I am His favorite because He has chosen me for something bigger than the seasons of this life. I am God’s favorite, so in hard times, I know “this, too, shall pass.”
Right now, in the good times, I see the blessing. I am thankful and I wonder - how I can deserve to be God’s favorite? Why do I have the privileges and pleasures I wake to every day? This morning I continued reading the book of Ezekiel (this has been a months long endeavor because somehow the prophecies of destruction and their fulfillment just do not captivate my wandering mind well) and was struck by truth. God chose Israel, disciplined Israel, and and promised to bring Israel home “for His great name’s sake.” And so He has done with me. There’s nothing exceptional about me. I am selfish and weak and human and yes, very sinful when I think about that which I know to be right and wrong. I will probably never make national news, and I’ll certainly never save a drowning child (I can’t swim). God chose me to be His favorite for His pleasure, and He made me His favorite by Jesus’s work, not by me being good.
I will end, then, my post with this thought. My God is a good, good Father. He knows every detail of my life, what has been, what is, and what will be. And it is my job to thank Him. That is the sameness in every season. That is the sun changing the horizon. That is why I am home.
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(P.S. I just finished reading Lucky: How the Kingdom Comes to Unlikely People by Glenn Packiam, which is probably why the blessedness of the troubled is fresh on my mind. I highly recommend it if you are interested in the topic of blessing and troubles seeming incompatible).
