Meantime, we are listing some of our larger items on internet sales lists, and have already had some interest. I will NOT BE HAPPY if we went to all that work for a garage sale and end up selling everything that way!!
And since I suddenly had extra time this weekend, I've been pondering a comment on my last post.
My "blog-niece"-heading-to-Bolivia Emily's thought:
Hmm, isn't it funny how we really have no idea what's going on in people's lives beyond what they choose to post in their blogs! (Our blog friends, that is :-)).In case you were ever wondering, NO, my blog is NOT my personal journal. I am far too private and too much of a thinker to throw everything out there publicly before I have processed at least some of it. I wish I weren't that way, but I am. I believe there is value in sharing the journey, but I don't think there is always value in blabbing every emotion along the way, because emotions are fickle. The heart is "deceitful above all things and beyond cure," as the scriptures tell us.
I find that generally the posts I choose not to write/make public are the conversations I need to be having with God and my closest, holding-me-accountable, love-tank-filling people. And that was probably more helpful for you, as well.
Besides, what a downer!! ACK!
That's not to say God can't handle my volcanic, PMS-like emotions, and that's where I need to be taking them. Like the Dark Years, Part 1, for the past five months, I have again found comfort that others have been there before me:
Hear my cry, O God;Depending on the season of my life, my heart has "grown faint" when an infant refused to sleep; or when a two-year-old stood, obstinately bow-backed, instead of sitting nicely in the stroller; or when we caught an eight-year-old in a lie; or when we've dealt with bad relationship choices with our teens.
listen to my prayer.
From the ends of the earth I call to you,Psalm 61:1-2
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
This spring my heart grew faint when every.single.door was slamming in our faces, except the one that I least wanted to walk through.
My personality longs for things to be neat and tidy, non-confrontational and...well, mostly I like things to be planned. Instead, life is messy and loud and full of unpredictable twists and turns that can never be anticipated fully.
I fight against it. I don't like it. It is uncomfortable.
But can it be that this - this place in which we have no control - is exactly where God wants us? Where we are forced to fall at His feet and acknowledge that even our best efforts are powerless?
Here's another verse that's convicted me this spring. I like the ad-nauseum list of every comprehensible happiness-producing item that has been removed from the writer's possession. Perhaps, like us, as one by one they failed, he found out that these things he'd hoped in could not provide what he needed, anyway. Instead, he chooses joy:
Though the fig tree does not bud (though my toddler refuses to be potty trained)Not sure what "grapes" or "olive trees" are not producing the kinds of "crops" that you had hoped to see by now. Maybe God seems far away and it seems like you are having to call Him from "the ends of the earth."
and there are no grapes on the vines (though my teen does not show spiritual interest),
though the olive crop fails (though this part of my husband's/child's/co-worker's/my own personality is here to stay)
and the fields produce no food (though my laundry is never done)
though there are no sheep in the pen (even though the business does not take off and I have to brush off my dusty nursing license)
and no cattle in the stalls (you fill in the blank!),
yet I will rejoice in the LORD,The Sovereign LORD is my strength;
I will be joyful in God my Savior.
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to go on the heights.
Habakkuk 3:17-19, NIV
But God hears. The Sovereign Lord (the one Who is in control, since obviously we are not) is our strength.
I pray that you will find JOY as you wait to see what He does.
I'm waiting right there with you.