I had been excited. Very excited. It felt as though our dreams were coming true. My husband and I have been looking in Norfolk at homes for the past 6 months. And we found “the one”. The right amount of rooms, bathrooms, location and under budget. Sweet. This was it.
We’ve been checking it out online and last week we went and saw it in person. Super cute and quirky. I like quirky. It’s not traditional. Built in 1908. But a brand new updated kitchen to boot. This was it.
We filled out the application. Got all the paperwork and documents in order. We even got our cashiers check…. Only to find out that morning that the house has been rented. Something they failed to mention to us.
Our response: seriously disappointed, verging on heartbroken.
It was more than just a feeling of “bummer, it didn’t work out”… it was more like, “Why God? Why can’t anything good happen to us? Why do things never seem to work out?” I know, I know. I sound like an Israelite in the desert with God providing left and right and me grumbling a mile a minute.
Why so downcast O my soul? Why so disturbed within me?
Because my hope was in this house. This temporary fleeting thing. My hope was in feeling secure. Feeling like I had things figured out. Feeling like I knew what was coming next. My hope was in moving in a few short weeks. My hope was in bypassing the grief and loss of my sister with the hope of a new move to shake things up.
And so I sit here several days later. Reflecting on the past few days. That day we got the news I spent the afternoon crying in bed. My promise of earthly “security” had fallen through.
One of my closest friends sent me this text yesterday, “ I love you. I’m praying for you this morning. Just now read this and thought of you.: ‘For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.’ Romans 8:24-25”
It’s funny because her text confirmed my feelings for the past several days. I’ve been hoping in the wrong things. In fact the day I found out we didn’t get the house I started writing this post. I recognized my hope was in the wrong thing right then and there.
Funny how you can know the truth but it’s still hard to act in the truth.
I’m still sad. Still low. Not as bad as I was thankfully but still discouraged. Trying to get enough guts to keep looking and pursuing this move to Norfolk. My heart is definitely not as into it as it was.
And the thoughts of my sister flood my mind as March 7th approaches. The immunity that this particular move was providing is gone. Instead I’m gripped in it’s entirety by this wave of grief. My brain is in a fog. Everything takes 10X more energy, strength, etc. I feel like I’m in molasses, moving in slow motion.
The past 3 weeks has been a medical appointment EVERY day and sometimes two in one day. I’m drained and tired. I’ve been running on fumes lately. Trying to press forward and tell myself to go, to get it together, to keep trying. And I’m exhausted.
So I’m surrendering. I recognize I can’t do these next few weeks apart from God. I can’t move forward without his strength carrying me. I’m too weak. Too weak to help kids with homework. Too weak to do dishes and laundry. Too weak to fix dinner.
Aaron Shust’s song has been playing on repeat in my head. Specifically these words….
My hope is in You, Lord
All the day long, I won't be shaken by drought or storm
A peace that passes understanding is my song
And I sing my hope is in You, Lord
I wait for You and my soul finds rest
In my selfishness, You show me grace
I worship You and my heart cries "Glory
Hallelujah, Father, You're here!"
I'm not perfect. I don't have it together. But my hope is in the Lord. And He is unshakeable. He is faithful. He is never changing, constant, strong, and in control. So I breathe and keep going. In His mighty grip today and always.