Because there's only one way to have old friends …
We were inseparable that year: Janae, Courtney, Bernadette and me, four freshman at OSU on the 5th floor of McNary Hall. We had weekly Ben & Jerry’s runs, lots of late nights huddling in the dorm-kitchen (the only place that was warm) and way too many times discovering that the boys had switched around the peephole on our door. So when the year came to a close it was Janae who suggested the idea:
“We could all live together–with four other girls–at Red Door next year.”
Hmm… I’d only met Brita and Hannah once or twice.
I’d never even met Zephyr or Jill.
And what on earth was Red Door?
“Sure!”
{I miss that endearing quality of college students–game for anything, even rooming with strangers!}
The day I moved in I met Zephyr for the first time. She was 6-feet tall barefoot and totally gorgeous. Jill was a smarty weather-girl who did the forecast for the Eugene news. Hannah and Brita were bubbling with smiles and always laughing and I soon discovered the gold-mind of Brita’s closet. (I miss the blessings of our open-closet policy!)
Mindy’s name wasn’t on the lease but she camped on our couch and brought the greatest conversations and thought-provoking questions. Chelle came after I moved out, but our lives crossed over so much it felt like we’d shared a room.
And that made 10 RDGs.
Before we moved in I learned the story of the Red Door Girls. An old, quaint house right off the campus at OSU housed generations of Christian girls, a legacy I knew nothing about until I was so blessed to become part of it myself. Just another example of how God’s gifts find us.
Without really knowing it, we were handed down a legacy of hospitality, joy, purity and faith. Our home was like a warm embrace, and it was always full. We had weekend dance parties and weekly Bible studies. Fresh cookies by the dozens flowed from our kitchen. There were always boys — lots of them — lingering in the sunroom or lounging on the couch, enjoying a cookie, a smile, a conversation, or just a long afternoon in a peaceful house that smelled better than their own. Jeff Patterson appeared every so often, but only because his best friend, Benjy, was marrying my housemate Zephyr (the one I’d never met).
So funny how things work together.
That was almost 13 years ago, when Janae made the simple suggestion that changed the course of our lives. Since that time we have celebrated every wedding (all 10!) and the birth of every single baby.
Twenty-one babies to be exact.
Yes, these ten girls have multiplied. We are now 41 in all. Ten girls, ten spouses, and 21 children birthed in just 7 years (and one more on the way!). And just recently we had the honor of all gathering together for a New Year celebration. We were only missing three husbands, two children, and one RDG.
Not bad.
I had no idea what I was getting into that day 13 years ago when I said, “Sure!”
I had no idea the friendship, joy, love, and blessing I’d receive. I had no idea that these strangers in my house would become soul-mates in my heart. I had no idea that this Zephyr, who I’d never met, would marry a man named Benjy who was the very man who led Jeff Patterson to Christ.
I just had no idea.
But isn’t that how it always is? We never have any idea what God is doing in the mundane moments of life. We, I, so often cling to all that is familiar, controlled. How often do I look into a complete unknown and simply say, “Sure!”?
But what if we did? What if we gave that new relationship a shot? A real go? We all love old friends but the only way to have old friends is to spend a long time with new ones.
Right?
I’m thankful. I think that’s what I’m saying. I’m thankful to be a RDG (and the RDGs that followed us are blessed women as well!) and thankful that even when I had no clue, God’s gracious gifts came and found me.
How have God’s gifts found you when you least expected it? And in what unknown situation or new relationship could you say “Sure!” … believing He has something sacred in store? Thanks all for reading, and to my dear Red Door sisters, I love you beyond words!
New Year's Day … in heaven.
I crawled on her lap over and over again during my Grandma’s final days. I was only 10, and I didn’t know her that well, but she smelled just like grandma, had the same voice and the same calm peace about her. Like warmth and trust and rest were wrapped around her whole being. Just like my grandma.
Probably because they were sisters.
My aunt Lois held me those days when Grandma passed from this world to the next, and she held a special place in my heart and faith ever since. The same amazing faith, courage, kindness, and glow that my grandma had, Aunt Lois had in even greater measure. I don’t even know exactly how to describe it, other than that her whole being exuded peace. She had this calm sense of trust and joy about her that made you feel, no matter what was going on, that God was absolutely in charge and that we had nothing to fear.
The last time we visited her was almost six years ago. Jeff and I flew to New York, where she lived, and drove upstate to the village of Scotia. And as we pulled up the narrow drive there she stood on her front porch. 90-years-old and standing tall. Skin glowing and figure trim. She was dignity, grace, elegance, peace. We stayed a few days with her, soaking up every word she said. We recounted to her our nightmarish San Jose story, how we were struggling with the direction of our life, how nothing seemed to be going how we thought it should.
And her two-word response has served as a beacon of hope in my life ever since.
“Nothing’s wasted.”
With God, nothing is wasted. Every roundabout. Every seeming detour. Every joy, every sorrow, every struggle, every victory. God uses everything for our good and His glory. For our sanctification and for the Kingdom of God. God is able to make all grace abound to us, can use all things for our good, can redeem every situation for His glory.
Absolutely nothing is wasted. As we walked away from her house, my eyes full of tears because I knew that that was probably the last time I would see her this side of eternity, I knew that God had brought me 3,000 miles to hear those two simple words.
Nothing’s wasted.
He used her voice to etch them into my heart. I still remember the table where she sat, the teacup I was holding, the light coming through the back window and her words washing over me with hope.
Nothing’s wasted.
And so, when the phone rang yesterday morning, I answered and heard my mom’s voice on the other end.
“Aunt Lois …” I knew what she would say. Held my breath. “Last night she stayed up for New Year’s Eve and had all her family over. She celebrated God’s faithfulness with them all, then went to sleep and silently slipped into the arms of Jesus.”
She must have liked to finish things too … maybe that’s where I get it from. *smile*
She celebrated her 96th New Year’s Eve, testifying to the grace of God then settled into her bed and into His arms.
Never was it more true that nothing is wasted than in her life.
She served Jesus faithfully. Loved her family. Smiled constantly. Rested in His grace continually. And lived out her belief that with God, nothing’s wasted.
New Year’s Day. What a perfect day to begin a New Year in Heaven!
I guess this makes my New Year’s Resolutions pretty simple. I want more than anything in the world to simply carry on her baton of authentic faith. To glow at 95 because God is good and there’s always reason to rejoice!
I know she would want us all to know, as we look into 2012, that nothing is wasted with God. He will use all our foibles, mistakes and victories. All our mis-steps and roundabouts and frustrations and detours.
We can rest and trust Him with all our tomorrows. However many we have …
{Thank you for reading and celebrating Aunt Lois’s life with me. Happy New Year!}
“I am reminded or your sincere faith, a faith that dwelt first in your grandmother Lois…” -1 Tim 1:5
His and his generosity toward me.
{Two years ago Jeff revealed a secret to me, from our way back college-ministry days, way before we were married or even an item or even liked each other (even before he broke my heart!)… Enjoy!}
We were donation-supported college-ministers, which meant you had no idea how much money you would make each month, but you did know it wouldn’t be much. I lived on about $500/month, and that included rent. Well, in the process of learning to trust God for my finances, this one month I sensed Him leading me, very clearly, to commit to supporting some missionaries to Brasil $25/month. It wasn’t a lot, but it was for me, especially on top of tithing the10% of my small income.
So I committed to it. The next month, I received my paycheck and my heart sunk. It was less than my rent. Now I knew God stretched dollars, but this just didn’t add up. I had to pay rent and didn’t have enough money. And I had committed to these missionaries!
So that morning I went for a long walk, cried, and prayed to God, asking Him to provide. I very clearly sensed God leading me to write the check to the missionaries FIRST.
Before I worried about rent, I was to write the gift check first. So, I went to class (I was in a one-year Bible/ ministry training school at the time), and during a break sitting there with shaky hand writing out that $25 check. Ok, Lord. (I still had told no one about my money situation.)
From class I went straight to our college-ministry staff meeting. I was discouraged and near tears, but didn’t want to share with them why. God kept just putting on my heart to trust Him in this. I kept quiet. About halfway through our meeting, our administrator poked his head in and asked me to come into his office. Oh dear, what had I done wrong?
I walked in and sat down, “Yes?”
“Well,” he responded, “I don’t know why, but you just received an $800 gift from an anonymous donor.” My jaw dropped as my eyes filled up with tears. What?! I had never received $800 in a whole month, ever! Let alone as a BONUS! Let alone as an anonymous gift at the very MOMENT that I needed it. I thanked him profusely, took my check, and beaming from ear to ear went back to the meeting, holding my secret kiss from God safely in my pocket.
I’ve always said I’ll carry that story with me all my days. God has provided in lots of “bigger” ways I suppose since then, but that was such a vivid example to me, during a season when I was single, longing to be married and “taken care of” by someone, that God was to be my provider.
—
So yesterday at small group I told that story again. I’ve shared it several times over the years, and it seemed like an appropriate time. Afterward we drove home, talking about various things, went to bed, life going on as usual.
But then this afternoon I received an unexpected text message. From Jeff. It read:
“I have a confession. I know who gave you that check. But they had no idea what your circumstances were.” Again, my jaw dropped. What? Really?!
Tonight as Jeff walked in the door I stood looking up at him, hands on my hips, and smiled.
“It was YOU?”
He grinned. “I just thought it was time you should know.”
The story is still as amazing, because Jeff had no idea how in-need I was at the time. He just felt it was the right thing to do. Little did either of us know at the time he was simply giving to his other half!
How like God to not only shower me with His love in such a tangible way, but to even use my future husband to do it. To show me that even when I felt alone and vulnerable, He was using a co-worker brother in the Lord, who would become my husband, to care for me. It still amazes me.
Now I’m not in awe of the anonymity, but of how cool God is, how creative, and how great His love is for us. Thank you babe, and thank you God, for that first check you gave me, and for all the paychecks ever since. 🙂
{Thanks, friends, for reading.}
What do we do with Halloween?
“Hey!” The man raised an arm from across the fence. It was just a few days after our move, and our new neighbor was waving us down to say hello. Immediately he looked at Jeff and said, “Now you’re a pastor, right?” (You never know what’s coming after that!) Jeff said yes and the man continued, “Come on over, I have to show you something!”
So we all followed him over to his property, unsure of what was ahead, and he led us all the way across his land and around the back of his house, to this elaborate outdoor tent-like structure built out of sticks, twigs, branches and canvas (huge!), with a sort of arbor, almost altar-like thing at the front. we were wide-eyed of course, and he went on to explain that they were celebrating the Feast of Tabernacles and hosting their Jewish synagogue’s Feast of Tabernacles service in this outdoor “tabernacle” that he’d built.
(The Feast of tabernacles or feast of booths was a weeklong celebration, instituted by God in Leviticus 23, to remember the years that the children of Israel carried the tabernacle through the wilderness and lived in tents or booths. To his credit, this man had followed the biblical directions exactly for building his twig-stick structure.)
So Jeff’s talking to the man and I’m thinking it all looks really weird and the kids are a little spooked so they start back to our house. Some friends were over at the time and the whole encounter raised some interesting questions, especially with another certain holiday just around the corner right? In fact we were laughing about how ironic it is that our Christian friends are preparing to celebrate Halloween while our non-Christian neighbors are celebrating the biblical feasts!
So, yesterday in Bible study we looked at Galatians 4:8-11 and discussed How Christians are to relate to culture. That is, Are we to shun Halloween, celebrate it, dress up as Bible characters? Hand out gospel tracts to the kids that knock on our door? What is the Christian’s relation to holidays and holy days? Here are a few biblical principles to consider, to help as you navigate this issue for yourself. (Click here for audio of the entire message.)
1. We are free. Colossians 2:16-17 says, “Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath. These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ.”
It’s clear that Christ fulfilled the law, and that all the OT festivals, feasts, and sabbaths are a shadow of Christ. They all speak of Christ. So we are not to let others pass judgment on us for not observing them, because they are just shadows, and the real thing is here now. The wrong isn’t necessarily in celebrating something, the wrong is giving in to the the fear of man and not the fear of God.
2. We are to do all things “in honor of the Lord.” Romans 14:4-6 says, “Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand. One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each should be fully convinced in his own mind. The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord. The one who eats, eats in honor of the Lord, since he gives thanks to God, while the one who abstains, abstains in honor of the Lord and gives thanks to God.”
Again, we read the command is to “not judge one another!” We often get so concerned in what Christians should or should not do, when the real thing we should be concerned about is not judging! But who are we to judge, if you will? Ourselves. Be “fully convinced in your own mind.” That is, figure out your convictions and stick by them. And what you decide to do, do it” in honor of the Lord.” If you can honestly say that the choice that you make is “ in honor of the Lord,” awesome! Praise God. You stand and fall before Him and no one else.
3. We are to do all things “for the sake of the gospel.” 1 Cor. 9:19-23 explains that Paul became like the Jews to win the Jews to Christ, he became like the Gentiles to win the Gentiles to Christ. Everything he did he did “for the sake of the gospel.” Paul’s guiding principle, with regard to culture, was, Is this the best route to win people to Christ and spread the gospel of grace?
For the Galatians, the problem was not the holiday, it was the slave-spirit in which they observed it. The problem was once again legalism and the fear of man. Paul was a free man, and the 1 Corinthians passage shows us that he was free to observe or not observe for the sake of the gospel. The question then, for us to be discerning culturally, is “Am I doing this for the sake of the gospel?”
For our family, our personal conviction is that we don’t celebrate Halloween. Honestly, I hate Halloween. I can truly see no redemptive value in it. Plus, I spent several years discipling a girl who came out of a background of the occult and horrendous witchcraft practices. Knowing, from her, what the “real” Halloween is all about has made me detest the holiday. Plus, since Christ conquered sin and death, we do not celebrate sin or celebrate death.
However, note THIS: It is possible to engage in Halloween festivities for the sake of the gospel and in honoring God. It is also possible to celebrate Easter (or Christmas) in a way that doesn’t honor God or further the gospel at all. It is possible to celebrate Passover and the feast of tabernacles, as a family, in a way that celebrates Christ and honors God and furthers the gospel. It is also possible to observe those same things in a spirit of slavery, of legalism. It is possible to observe certain holidays in a spirit of thinking we’re somehow spiritual superior because we observe them. And it’s possible to NOT observe certain holidays in a spirit of thinking that we’re somehow spiritually superior because we don’t observe them.
The key, as always: the heart.
—
{Response: How does your family celebrate or not celebrate in honor of God and for the sake of the gospel? I would love to hear your thoughts and perspective. Thanks, friends, for reading.}
For those pinch-me moments in life…
Today’s pinch-me moment: Sitting out on the back deck overlooking two acres of green, trees swaying in the gentle breeze. It is bright blue sky, not a cloud in sight, and close to 70 degrees. In a t-shirt, with a cold drink, doing my “work”: studying God’s Word.
All this and heaven too?
{Right after I wrote these words I got stung by a bee! No, nothing’s perfect here on earth. But this pinch-me life of joy and grace is worth a few bee stings along the way… What’s your most recent pinch-me moment of gratefulness? Would you share it with us? Thanks for reading.}
For all the aching parts of growing up
We’ve been in our new house a week when we take a family-date to carry away the mountain of flattened cardboard boxes to a local recycling drop. The kids pile into the car as the sun goes down. Jeff ties the boxes on tight, drives slowly. We make it. Kids topple out of the car, they drag the small ones over and heave them over their heads into the receptacle. All’s well. We climb back in, it’s dark now. We’re near the Goodwill drop-off so we stop. Drop off some boxes of 2T clothes, board books, Heidi’s infant bike-seat. I hand over pieces of our life and shake my head. They’re growing so fast.
We have a gift to deliver to our old next-door neighbors who helped us with our move. As we pull onto our old road, turn left on Winkel Way, I wonder how this will go …
Our old house comes into view. A pod is in the driveway. The lights are on and I can see the bare walls inside. Dutch pipes up from the backseat.
“Mommy, who lives in our house now?” I explain. Some little children. A family. A nice family who will take good care of it. Silence. I can feel the air in the car change.
“Is their car in our garage?” Dutch asks slow, a slight quiver in his voice. Yes, I say.
We drop the gift at our neighbors’. It’s dark and our old house is all lit up, glowing at the top of the street. The kids are quiet.
We slowly pull away, and I can hear Dutch begin to quietly cry. Real tears, not just fussing or protesting. The real ones that come out even when you’re trying to be brave.
“Mommy, I love our old house,” the words spill out, “I didn’t want to move.” I exhale. Ache. I know he’s not yet 5 but I also know how real little feelings are to little people.
“I know, baby, I know.” I take his hand and turn all the way around in my seat. Face him. “Can I tell you a story?” He looks up, nods. In the light of the passing streetlights I can see the tears on his cheeks. Oh it’s so hard to grow up.
I tell my story: “I remember when I was little and we moved. And I was so excited for my new house, but then I remember after we’d moved all our stuff, my daddy and I, just the two of us, went back to our old house, to make sure we hadn’t left anything behind.”
Now I’m the one with the quivering voice. “And I got so sad, Dutch.”
He’s listening.
“I got so sad because I remembered all the fun things we did in that house. And my daddy got sad too. Because he remembered how little I used to be in that house, how he’s brought me home from the hospital there, and all the fun times we’d had together. He held me in his arms, and we both cried as we left because we both felt sad. Even though we were happy about our new house, we both cried because we felt sad leaving all the fun memories behind. It’s hard to grow up, sweetie. I know.”
I can see Dutch now, holding onto the strings of my story.
“And then did you get happy again?” He asks, holding onto a string. We turn onto the main road, can no long see our house behind.
“Yep. We were both sad, but we were also both happy because we got to go to our new house together and make more fun memories.” The wheels are turning.
“Did Papa’s hair look different then?”
Now I’m laughing, tears still spilling. “Yes, babe. It was different.”
“Because he was younger then, right?”
“Yes, he was young like daddy.” I close my eyes. I can see.
Dutch smiles. “And he wasn’t a Papa yet!”
“Nope, just a daddy.”
And now I have to face front because the tears won’t stop. And now I know Dutch’s ache because my daddy’s almost 70 and Where do the years go? And it’s just a house and it’s just down the road but these car wheels turn so fast and Oh it’s so hard to grow up.
We pull into our new driveway. Gravel crackles under the tires. It’s good but unfamiliar. I’m happy-sad because I don’t know this new place in life. It’s a new walk and a new place and I’m the daughter-mom who stretches out like a bridge and I ask silently for new mercies and reach to open Dutch’s door.
“Mommy, will you carry me inside?”
“Yes.” I pull him in and hold tight. Inhale him and I ask God for fresh grace for all these new moments. Fresh grace for all the aching parts of growing up.
{For whatever places ache in you today … may you find grace. Thanks for reading.}
F is for a freebie? {because we're moving today!}
Do I get a freebie on moving day?
Because … I have no real post for today. But today is our twelfth move, and while moving can be a pain, there are also a few reasons why moving can be great.
Twelve Reasons Why Moving is Great
1. It’s the only time you vacuum under the bed. (At least it’s the only time I vacuum under the bed.)
2. You find that lost mailbox key. (To the mailbox you’ll no longer be using.)
3. You get to wear your favorite jeans with holes in the knees and that hooded sweatshirt you love. {Jeff gets to wear his old camo shorts that he wears for every move.)
4. Pizza on paper plates.
5. You save money on groceries when you force yourself to eat everything out of the freezer.
6. KATU Channel 2 camera crew shows up to film your move. (Ok that’s just this one … hilarious! More on that story later!)
7. You can go hog wild on Craigslist selling stuff and make lots of money.
8. Men get to lift heavy stuff and grunt. Men love that.
9. Women get to watch them lift heavy stuff and grunt. Men really love that.
10. You’re guaranteed at least one embarrassing moment when some personal item is found under the dryer or the bed.
11. You get to creatively make do with whatever your new digs bring. (I once hung all my kitchen items on the wall because I only had one drawer. I bet you have a fun story one too!)
12. You get this gift: A fresh start. A new chapter. A blank sheet of lined paper.
Anticipating what our gracious God will write on this new page…
{We’d so appreciate prayers today for a smooth and safe transition?
Thanks so much for your grace, and for reading…}
How to be frugal without going insane
I have the coupons printed. It’s the last day to get the deal. It’s pouring down rain. I pack my two small children in the car, fasten into carseats, drive to Rite-Aid. Unload, get them in the cart, safely maneuver around the candy aisle and the toy car display without a scene. So far, so good.
We only need one thing so I head straight to the back. I search the shelves until I find the two small pink boxes. Check the coupon: $2 off two boxes of *ahem* certain feminine products. Perfect, done. I hope for a female cashier (am I the only one who hates purchasing feminine products from men?). Hope is dashed, of course.
I keep my eyes down, hand over my pink boxes. The total is way too high. Must be wrong. I hand over my coupons. Beep beep beep. They don’t work. I begin to sweat. Try again. Beep beep beep. A line is forming behind me. My kids start to fidget. “Mommy, are we done yet?”
The cashier holds up the boxes, compares them to the picture in the ad. Are you kidding me? Sweat beads on my forehead. He picks up the intercom phone, “Can I get a price check on register three, please. Price check on three.” Oh, for crying out loud!
Finally a small committee forms at register three, analyzing my boxes of feminine products while a sea of customers lined up behind me looks on. Can’t they open another register? It must be a hundred degrees in here. “Oh, ma’am, the coupon is for 24-count. This box is 18-count. Sorry, we’re out of 24-count boxes. Would you like your coupons back to use for another time?”
Oh, it’s ok, no thank you. I turn and face my audience, smile in humiliation, and lead my children out of the store, empty-handed. Why is being frugal so frustrating? … {Read the rest over at FrugalLivingNW …Oh, and be sure to read the hilarious embarrassing-story comments people wrote at the bottom. Leanna’s takes the cake! Hope you can enjoy a little levity and laughter today… Thanks for reading!}
When I was going the other direction … (He saved me)
Filled with rage, a man with a mission, determined to make them pay, he stormed down the long dusty road.
The road headed toward Damascas.
He’d already put one man to death, and fully intended to see many more. The words were already formed in his mind, the demand for letters, giving him authority: “That if any belonging to the Way be found I can bring them bound to Jerusalem.”
You know the story, yes? A blinding light flashed down from heaven, the voice of Jesus Christ speaking to Saul by name, then a specific commission to go and preach the gospel to the Gentiles. Saul turned to Paul and immediately began preaching Jesus the Messiah everywhere he went.
That’s conversion.
We often hear: “I’m just searching for God,” or “I found God.” But true conversion is always that God found us. Jesus seeks and saves. Our part is to receive the free gift of grace. That is what it means to believe the gospel.
Paul was not looking for Jesus, Paul was going the opposite direction of grace and yet grace found him and turned his life around.
Jesus is the hero of the story.
Sometimes it’s easy to read of Paul’s conversion and think that perhaps he’s an isolated case. I’ve never had a blinding light strike me down from heaven, and never heard Jesus audibly speak my name. But this past week, in our Galatians study, we took the time to write out afresh our testimony, how Christ saved us, and how He’s changed us since that point. You know what I discovered, as my eyes filled with tears and my heart filled with gratitude?
Paul’s not so unique after all.
It’s true that I prayed to receive Christ when I was five. Precious. And while yes I believe I was regenerate and saved at that time, it wasn’t until the summer between high school and college that God radically delivered my heart, my affections, and knocked me down with a blinding light of grace and spoke my name from heaven, so to speak. Since that August of 1998 I have never been the same.
He changed my name.
And you know what’s so amazing? I wasn’t seeking God. At all. I had tucked God in my back pocket and was content to live a self-centered, pleasure-pursuing, outwardly-righteous life. I was well on my way to becoming the god of my own life, and I do now shudder to think of where that would have taken me.
Paul was on his way to a ruinous life. And so was I.
But God. (de theos)
But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ … for by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. (Eph 2:4-9)
But God came after me. I was going the opposite direction and He arrested my life into His service. You know what’s even cooler than Paul and I sharing this story?
Jeff, Paul and I sharing this story. Jeff’s story is the same. He literally ditched the guy who was supposed to talk to Jeff about God. Jeff ran away from God, was not seeking Him, and yet God through this campus missionary sought after him, came to Jeff’s house, came to his room, sat down and told Jeff the glorious good news of the gospel.
By grace you have been saved.
When we were going the opposite direction, Christ intervened and saved our lives. Doesn’t that give you glorious hope as you pray for your unsaved loved ones?
Whether they are searching or not, Christ can arrest a soul and change a life.
He did it for Paul. For Jeff. For me. You too?
{Celebrate this grace today … Thanks for reading.}
Buzz Lightyear shops for a house
With the lessons of Buzz Lightyear impressed on my heart, we continued the house search through the weekend. Our house-related core values were, for the sake of our family and God’s kingdom:
- Near the church (Jeff loves to ride his bike whenever he can and we love being available for people and near the core-community of WCC)
- Property (More and more we found ourselves craving country, space, some room to breathe and run and let the kids dig in the dirt and make a big mess without the Homeowner’s Association putting a notice on our door)
- Special space for guests (We love having guests, and wanted a place they could come, stay, and not feel like they were intruding or displacing us. A real treat would be somewhat private/special quarters in case someone needed to live with us for an extended time.)
- Big open living area for family get togethers, holidays, ministry meetings, showers, gatherings, etc.
Our first find: A rental house (pictured above) that is, shall we say, lacking aesthetic appeal (some might employ the word ugly), but only 1 mile from the church, on a beautiful 2.5 acre farm property, with a separate in-law quarters downstairs for guests, and a big open living room area. It would require the kids to share a room, and of course there was that whole thing about it being, by some standards, ugly, but it was affordable rent and met all of our core values.
I admit, I struggled with the idea of renting. After owning our own homes for eightyears, we were going back into renting again? Isn’t it so much wiser to buy?
Then we found: A foreclosure house going up for auction. We could likely get it for more than $200,000 below the tax-assessed value. GREAT deal! And, it was 4,600 s.f.! Can you imagine? I can’t even fathom a house that big! What a deal! It was also near the church, didn’t have land but it was on a nice wooded lot, and didn’t have separate quarters for guests but with a house that big you could have a whole army stay with you! It was almost 3 times as big as the rental house AND we could own it. Yes, our monthly payment would be way higher than the rent would be … but we’d be getting so much more and we’d own it! Such a good deal!
I lie in bed Friday night and can’t sleep. Houses and numbers and scenarios spin in my mind. My own logic is clear: Go for the deal. Pay the higher price and OWN the great big house — way better deal than renting!
Heidi begins to fuss, cries, asks for water. I roll out of bed and get her sippy cup. As I climb back into bed I bump into Buzz, on the floor, and kick a button with my foot:
“I’m a space ranger!” He announces into the darkness.
Oh yes: Buzz.
Buzz’s questions come back to mind:
What did you ask for?
A house with acreage, near the church, with a special space for guests and a big living room for hospitality.
Which choice costs less?
Renting, by far.
Which will be the simplest to take care of, giving you freedom to live simply and frugally?
The rental house.
The answer opposes my flesh. I want to own. I’ve disdained the rent-fire all my days. But I learned my sacred mundane lesson from Buzz and Craigslist and the still small voice and I know nothing’s stupider than ignoring that voice.
Jeff and I talk. He asks me to fill out the rental application. I follow my man’s lead.
Then I crunch numbers for hours. I research my brains out because that’s how I’m wired, and to my surprise I realize that by renting we can actually save up more towards owning than we would by buying now. And we have more freedom to be generous.
Maybe when the space ranger gig is up Buzz could get a job as a financial planner?
Just kidding. Friends, I don’t know the future. And our primary objective in this life is not to get ahead financially. We may rent for 2 months or twenty years … I don’t know. But I do know that our gracious God has once again done exactly what He’s promised to do:
“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” James 1:5
Even through the most sacred mundane places, even through the mouth of Buzz Lightyear. {We move 10/7 & 10/8 — want to help? 🙂 Thanks, as always, for reading.}