Well, the Strongs bought a new house, a new house in the woods.
Or rather, a new to us house in the woods. It’s definitely not a new new house. It’s a 1970’s fixer upper.
Actually, that’s not quite true either. It’s only a partial fixer upper. The previous owners completed some beautiful upgrades inside, including the installation of gorgeous hickory cabinets in the kitchen and new wood floors throughout the main living areas. But there are some things that need changing and updating, things like cough cough popcorn ceilings, peeling wallpaper, and (what in the world!) carpet on the outdoor walkway and concrete stairs. So, we’ll be spending a good chunk of summer accomplishing this as well as you know, actually moving into the house.
Part of me is rather sad to leave our current house, this settled in place where we’ve loved and argued and eaten and lived the past 6 years. That’s at least twice as long as our family has lived in any other house. Even my peony bushes dripping with blooms big as saucers seems to say, “How can you leave us after all we’ve given you?”
This house feels like home, certainly. Our neighbors are awesome. Our street is active but quiet. The rose bush I got as a pint-sized shrub for Mother’s Day in 2011 is now tall enough to flirt with the nearby maple branches. We’re leaving a much newer, sparklier home for an older place that’s a bit of a hot mess. Given all this and so much more, part of me wonders if David and I have completely lost our minds to invite this change.
“If a man is going to do anything worthwhile, there are times when he has to risk everything on his leap, and in the spiritual domain Jesus Christ demands that you risk everything you hold by common sense and leap into what He says, and immediately do you, you find that what He says fits on as solidly as common sense.” Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest
This leaving our current home–along with our dreamy back deck (tears)–feels like a leap.
Still, whenever we walk around our new house, there is the undeniable sense we have landed where we’re supposed to land, smack dab in the middle of God’s will.
So we’ll take our house with the peeling wallpaper and popcorn ceilings and relish in the fact that for whatever reason, it fits on as solidly as common sense.
I suppose that’ll be easier to believe as we drink in this view on a regular basis.
Whether this time of year finds you leaping or tiptoeing into a new season, I pray you receive a fresh rush of confidence in moving toward that place where God wants you to move. And may you take comfort in knowing what doesn’t appear to make sense right now could very well reveal itself to make total sense later. And in the meantime, as we wait for what will be, may we spend time being thankful for what is.
Happy June-ing, dearies.
For more encouragement through life’s changing seasons, visit here.
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