Sitting a midst piles of brown cardboard boxes, I’m the classic “day after move in” mess.
I still haven’t found our microwave or our kitchen table in the packing container, so I’m balancing my computer precariously on my lap and drinking coffee from my rapidly cooling mug knowing there is no chance of reheating.
But I am also filled with a thankful heart. God has been with us throughout our cross-country move. Day after day I have seen His provision and His guiding hand, and I am deeply and utterly grateful.
Last summer, in the midst of selling our house, I visited with a professor at Moody Bible Institute, Dr. Ron Sauer. I was interviewing him about his practice of praying, daily, for his students. Before classes begin, he walks through the room, stopping at each desk and remembering each of his students, individually, in prayer.
He said that he believes that God answers these prayers and cares about each of us, deeply and individually.
Then, he asked to pray for me.
As I sat in his faculty office, head bowed, eyes closed, he asked God to be with us in our move. He asked that we sell at the right moment, and that we would find the right town, the right house, the right neighborhood. He asked that we sell for a price that would make that possible. He asked that God would go before us and find a friend for Sabrina – the perfect friend who could welcome her to her new neighborhood. He prayed for safety on the road and for crazy, specific things that I never even thought to bring before the altar of grace.
And, I wept.
I cried because I had prayed to God, but I hadn’t thought to bring Him all of those tiny worries that were clogging up my heart and brain. I wept because I realized that God really did care for me like that, in specific ways, and that He cared for my family as well.
My favorite Bible verse has always been Psalm 32:8. “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go. I will counsel you with my loving eye upon you.”
Yet, I often live like I am the one in control. I act like everything rests on my shoulders.
In that office, with tears streaming down my face – heading unashamedly into an “ugly cry” – I knew in my heart that God would care for me.
When we finished, Dr. Sauer pushed a box of tissues toward me. “Do people always cry in your office,” I asked.
“No,” he smiled. “Mainly the women.”
Today, as I sit in our new-to-us, unpacked, cluttered, mid-century home in Ormond Beach, Florida, I am a witness to God’s provision.
He arranged our move so that Sabrina could leave mid-semester. He scheduled the pick-up of Milt’s car so that we were on the road at Christmas – but with good weather and very little traffic. Gas prices were at an all-time low.
My mom and her husband Bob allowed us to live, rent free, in their Munster condo and then crash our gang into their Florida home. We had a place to stay and were able to have a long-needed visit.
Our new house closed in less than two weeks – and Sabrina was able to start school on time. While her first day was very tough, she has already made two friends: a Russian girl who doesn’t know any English (and is so thankful for my sweet, caring daughter), and an artist, anime-loving, cosplay girl who is sweet and welcoming.
Thank you, God.
You know me. You care for me. You supply all of my needs...even when I don't know how to ask.