My brain is annoying me today by being grey and blah and swirly. This post is mostly to help me get a few things sorted out since I’d rather have some clarity. Feel free to tag along if you like.
The situation I’m being grey and blah and swirly about right now is our house. Our house is fine. It’s safe, it has enough room, and it’s done fine for the last two years. We rented it, after one quick walk-through right before we moved to Colorado. In many ways, it’s been a great house for the amount of time and effort we put into renting it in the first place.
The part that I’m struggling with is that I really don’t like it anymore. The kitchen is small and dark and for the amount of time I spend baking and cooking, I would love to have some open space. The upstairs and downstairs are totally segmented, so there isn’t any way to have Jake not be right on top of me all the time. Plus, 120 pounds of semi-disobedient dog being underfoot doesn’t really help. The colors are just plain weird. The kitchen is pink and green, living room light blue, and the bedrooms shade from light yellow to dark brown, which are my least favorite colors in the entire world. The hardest thing is that there is absolute no space. I sometimes strongly identify with the main character of Fried Green Tomatoes when she takes an ax to her walls hollering about how she needs some air and light. I’m with ya, lady.
The outside is my favorite part even though it refuses to grow anything, including the garden I planted, grass seed I painstakingly laid down, or flowers I lovingly laid out. We have a nice patio that I’ve tried very hard to make fun with lanters and christmas lights and a fire pit. When it’s warm enough, which is only six months out of the year, I can lay outside and be grateful for just about anything.
Most of all, this house has seen some hard things. My chronic pain has been bad since we moved. I’ve been desperately lonely. I’ve had major hopes resulting in equally major disappointments. This poor house was the scene of two burglaries and I still struggle with the blank spot on the wall where my sword used to hang, and the empty area of our downstairs where I would practice my flute. I have shed more tears and laid down more burdens in this house than any other place I’ve been in my whole life.
Does all that mean we HAVE to move and leave that all behind?
But, I kinda want to.
I don’t want to run away from the memories, even the bad ones. The burdens I’ve laid at the feet of God were burdens I didn’t have any business carrying in the first place. I’ll never forget where I was sitting in this house the first time I experienced absolute peace in the midst of horrible physical pain. I’ve learned so much of who God really is and how much He cares about me, that it would give me a pang to walk away from where all that happened.
I still want to move, though.
I would love to find a house that has a ton of sunlight. Where Jake has more than ten feet to run. A yard that might like me enough to grow a rose or two. A kitchen that doesn’t make me feel claustrophobic.
We have two weeks to find such a place. If we don’t, we are commited to staying here another year. Since I know the miracles that God has already performed in my heart over the last two years, I know that finding a better place or being at peace in this house won’t be that big of a deal for Him. But, I do think it will take God making it okay for me to be reconciled to staying here.
We are doing everything we need to do to find a new place. We’ve been to see two already, one of which we decided to apply for, it was so great. However, one tiny, but important detail didn’t work out so that one is off our list. We are going to continue praying and searching.
But, mostly praying.