Fence and rooftop.
That’s all I’d have seen if I would have opened the blinds in our room.
As I stand at the edge of our bed and fold laundry…I glance at the window and long for fresh light to pour in. But as I move forward to shift the blinds open…….that’s when I remember.
I remember that I don’t live in wide-open space anymore.
I don’t have a field, a garden, and trees out back. I have a tall, faded, wood fence and….neighbors….everywhere.
I don’t look out my window and see lots of green. I look out my window and see lots of granules and asphalt – the tops of other people’s houses.
When we traded pine trees for palm trees – we also traded five acres for just about five inches.
I feel all claustrophobic.
And my kids. Oh, my land-loving kids.
The oldest refused to go outside for the first month. Because after moving in – he attempted to play kickball…only to have the ball almost go into someone else’s yard every time he kicked it. He tried to play t-ball…but the same thing happened. And the distance between bases? Centimeters. He tried to fly a kite – only to get it stuck in the neighbor’s fence. And then he tried to just run around – but the pots and dips, holes and fire ants in this rented, untended backyard – made it annoying and…dangerous.
The look on his face when the kite got stuck…..it made my mama heart just about implode.
He and I…and the others too – we long to fully, slowly, breath in open air. We long for the freedom to wonder.
Not much of that will be happening here, however.
This is a house farm. A home sits every few inches…row upon row.
I could try to muster up some sweet and spiritual analogies here. I could write about how I have so many people right at my doorstep – that I get the opportunity to witness to and serve, daily. I could hash out how this could be a little lesson in gratefulness. I could talk about some perks of living in the city. I could show you some lining in silver.
But I’m not there today. Me and my miss-matched socks sprawled across my bed – we just aren’t feeling it this Friday.
I miss the dirt clad feet the most, I think. I actually miss scrubbing dirt from the sole of a little foot….
Because bare, dirty feet on country clean ground – make for happy, content little children.
I do not know why the Lord brought us all these miles away to live in this mess of concrete. I do hope (and trust, yes) that it will unfold and faith will waft out of it all – but as for now….
I’ll open my back blinds and stare at fencing and shingles.
And I’ll consider how we make a mistake when we think that what God calls us to is always ideal. It usually isn’t.
And with a husband who would move us to Africa and live in a mud-hut tomorrow – and a God who calls us out of comfortable and into the harvest….
fences and shingled rooftops might be something I look back on…
and actually miss someday.
Kinda like those happy little dirt clad feet.
Oh, I hear this, Kate. Why are we so willing to sacrifice our comforts, but when it comes to our children…oh, this is hard. What a wonderful thing you are doing. And–I know you must have heard this a million times–one day they will thank you. It's easy to talk about serving and sacrificing but to live it? Keep pressing on, friend. Praying for you and your littles.
Ahhh! But the plus side—Mama and Daddy live only 4 hours away and DO have the space, the land, the play cabin and the really big bathtub with those stress melting jets!! Come on up! ( Actually, we really miss your old place too!!)