He told me that he could have sat there all night.
He used words like peaceful and relaxing.
He rolled down the old van window as I started the engine, so that he could hear the loud croak of the frogs nearby as we drove back to brick and concrete.
We had hit the dusk hour. Night was falling, light was dim, and the trees that line our church’s property were in full sway. The wind was breezing in this cool but comfortable air, and the calling frogs seemed to be telling us that they were enjoying it just as much as we were.
This all played out as my kids and I left a church meeting, and headed back home to ready ourselves for the week. It took place at out congregation’s second location – which is positioned in a serene pocket on the outskirts of suburbia. It gives you the taste of sweet country, while really just barely being on the fringes of it.
And it sends my oldest soaring.
This child, who loves the feel and smell of dirt, ground, outside air – he has parents who moved him away from five acres of boyhood bliss, to fenced yards and house farms.
He remembers the ownership of property. He remembers the blessing of being able to dig holes, the joy of tearing things up a bit, the satisfaction of being able to situate and paint and make your own decisions about home and property. He remembers the years of his life where the word landlord wasn’t a part of his vernacular.
And mama here remembers it too.
We chose right, I’m certain. There is nothing in me that makes me want to go back to anything I ever had elsewhere. We are where we are supposed to be in this season.
But giving up what everyone else is grabbing, doing the different thing, taking the unsure route, not having a home of my own to tend and shine, being a pastor’s wife, being a homeschooling mom, living on a very metered and tight budget, not being able to fully set and grow roots in a home… I never envisioned any of these things. My plans were of grandeur. So there’s been a little bit of a grieving. I’ve had to morn what my mind had imagined.
But gosh, like my last post eluded, I feel like the Lord has a definite reason for directing us to the rare road. And that while I had grandiose visions for my life, His are even more so. Maybe not in the sense or way that we all might think, but in another way and realm somehow.
And this gets me excited. And makes me grateful. And makes me look to the horizon and say “What in the world is God gonna do?”
And then I think…no country croak of a bog frog, no fine owned property, no easy swim with the world’s tide can compare to seeing what God does.
So we pray for strength and peace and provision and contentment. We pray over that oldest boy who longs for wide spaces. We stay open. Willing. Ready. Thankful.
