Sunday, March 30, 2014


The past 3 weeks have been full of packing, packing, packing. Then moving 2 weeks ago. Then unpacking. unpacking. unpacking.

The kids and I on our first outing here were almost in a terrible accident. We would have been t-boned with the driver crushing me. Fortunately, he didn't hit me. Unfortunately, he hit someone else and t-boned her. The lady and I were both making left turns. The other driver ran a red light. It was raining. I stopped in time. She couldn't see that I stopped as I was blocking the view of his coming approach. I laid on the horn hard. He still hit her. All her air bags on the driver side deployed. I stopped and waited in the rain for the police to come because I witnessed the accident and I wanted to be sure the truth was known. By the end of the 45 minute wait she gave me a hug and so did her husband who came to retrieve her. He said he couldn't believe that there were still good people out there. I didn't do anything special but I felt like I was able to be Jesus in that moment to them. I was so thankful that already God was using us... planning for us to be here.

The following day we ended up helping an older woman who needed something to eat and a ride. I bought her a meal at Church's Chicken and gave her cash and dropped her off somewhere she could spend the day.

Many things have happened since we've moved. Ian had an infected tooth and we experienced 3 nights of him screaming in pain while waiting to get into the dentist... all due to miscommunication with the dentist administrative staff. I don't think they understood the emergency we were in.

The toilet flooded and kept flooding. The valve to cut the water supply was broken. My phone stopped working in the bathroom as I jerry-rigged holding the thing in the tank up to keep it from flooding. Fecal matter was everywhere. Inches of disgusting water everywhere in the bathroom. I used every single towel and beach towel I had and called Mike to call the property manager since my phone kept dropping calls.

Our dishwasher was leaking water on our kitchen floor every time we used it.

We had a minor gas leak with our gas stove.

All these issues have been resolved. Stove repaired. New dishwasher. The toilet fixed by a professional. Ian given antibiotics.

Ian and Michael started school last Tuesday at the local public school. We had some hiccups with the bus but the issues seem to be resolved.

I love my new home. Love meeting our new neighbors. Enjoy the beauty of the neighborhood and community we are now in. I feel like God put us in the perfect place. Enough room and space for living and hospitality. Plenty of people to minister to and be ministered from. Close to the Children's Hospital. Close to culture and community and people.

But even with all the highs and joys and gratitude for our new situation there is still a low. All the change and upheaval. The new routines. Homeschooling Libby and Samuel and figuring out what the heck that even means. Having to learn where to shop. Where to get gas. How to get places. I've gotten lost many times. I don't have a GPS on my phone or in my car, etc. But I've figured things out myself. I've stopped and asked for help. Trying to figure out how to start and instill good habits. Figuring out the comforts and things I've clinged to wrongly.

I don't like stress. I don't like disorder. I don't like change. So all these things have shaken me up. I've gotten angry, impatient and frustrated. Not to mention that I have 6 other people who are dealing with all these changes and stresses as well and it's working out in them in various ways as well. We are learning to trust God and ask Him for help. I've had to ask my kids for forgiveness way more than usual lately.  

We are all seeking comfort, assurance, and security. We are all in desperate need of God.

And so I've been trying to fight this depression. And ashamed I even feel depressed. I mean how can I be depressed given all the blessings I have and have been given??? How dare I feel low? How dare I act imperfectly.... hmmm.... that's getting to the heart of it. I'm angry with myself for acting "less than" I think I should. For not being where I'm "supposed" to be at. Having to surrender my ideal self and thoughts and feelings... because that is wrong. It's not real.

And today, I have had to be carried. My husband, Mike, has carried the bulk of today. He has gotten up with the children. And let me sleep til 11. He has made the kids lunch. He has dealt with the arguments, the disputes, the broken items, the whining and complaining and fussing. He has loved our kids. And he has loved me. Allowing me to shower. Allowing me to rest. Allowing me to even now write, releasing myself by sharing my thoughts in a cathartic way.

So there's this mixture of happiness and depression right now. There's this mixture of joy and grief. And that's where I am. Carried by my husband. Carried by the Lord. And I know I will get through this whatever this is. And I know God will be faithful. And I know I will see the good of the Lord in the land of the living...

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