So here we are, almost three months into the next chapter of our lives. And it's not quite how we had pictured it.
We moved in faith, trusting God to open doors with Michelle's business, but it just hasn't picked up the way we had hoped and expected that it would. She's having success. Just not as much as we had hoped. At least not yet. And not being able to see around the corner leaves us struggling to hold on to the faith that brought us here in the first place.
I was given the hope of advancement in my job before we ever moved here. But now the situation has changed, and it doesn't look like I will be moving up in any way for quite some time. A friend of mine was let go, and while I hated the whole situation, I knew that it would leave more hours available in my department. And while it did at first, last week I was back to the minimum number of hours I was promised from the outset.
We have heard mostly silence regarding our house back in South Carolina. And no news, in this situation, is not good news. There was an email, nearly a month ago, informing us that our house might be shown, but we never heard anything after that, which means it must not have. So we keep putting about three fourths of our current income into a house payment for a house we haven't seen in almost three months. It feels pretty fruitless right now, just like the rest of the story.
Sharing space is proving to be a continual struggle. The line between parent and grandparent is regularly blurred, despite our efforts to prevent that sort of thing. Having no extra money, we can't afford to go out and do much with just the three of us, and with gas prices as they are, it's not the best stewardship to drive all across the metro even for things that are free to the public.
We have half the income we had six months ago, but we have enough to pay our bills. How many people owe more than they make, especially in this economic slump? We can't buy each other nice "just because" gifts, but we can enjoy the gift of a family together. How many people are part of broken families or families that have no hope for salvation--in this life or the next? I don't have room to advance in my job, but how many people would give anything just to have a job? Michelle's business isn't growing at the rate we had hoped, but how many people would dream of staying at home with their child(ren) like she does? On top of all this, there are other battles which aren't ours to fight, but which directly affect us--both in my extended family and in Michelle's. Life is hard right now, but we are blessed. And I hope we never take those blessings for granted or lose sight of them in this season of discouragement.
I've been reading through Isaiah lately, and I came across a passage that has not left me since. Isaiah 22:8-11 tells of a time when Judah (the southern kingdom of Israel), during military opposition from multiple directions, did their best to muster up an army and to draw up brilliant strategies for war. But God said to them, through the prophet, Isaiah, "you did not look to him...or see him who planned it long ago." And in our context here, feeling war on every side, it's easy to make plans. It's easy to look for ways to take charge and make our dreams come true. But what God wants--infinitely more than He wants our plans and our effort--is for us to simply look to Him, because He is the one who planned this day long ago.
So, friends, we ask for your prayers during this season of our lives. Pray that we would stop looking for brilliant strategies and start looking to God. More than ever since the day of our salvation, we are forced to realize that we cannot do anything apart from Jesus Christ, who is our strength (John 15:5; Philippians 4:13). And, honestly, I believe that's a really great place to be. Because it keeps us from taking the glory for the things that only God can do.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
On the Other Side
We've finally made it! The next chapter has begun, and we're caught in the suspense of the Story!
The past week or so has been a whirlwind of activities, from packing to cleaning to traveling to unpacking. Sleep has been sacrificed, but outlooks have remained optimistic, even during the more stressful moments.
Today--the first day after moving in--Michelle is already out following God's leading through her Thirty-One Gifts business. A local church is hosting a children's consignment sale, and Michelle was able to rent one of only a few vendor tables for the event. It's actually a three-day event, running from 10:00-6:00 Thursday and Friday and from 9:00-2:00 on Saturday. We don't know what God will do through this event, but Michelle is being faithful to do her part, trusting God to write the Story from there.
I (Matt) will continue to put the finishing touches on things around here, unpacking what will become our living room area in the basement. (Perhaps it should be called our "retreat." That sounds fancier. And it might be more accurate.)
Before closing this post, there are a handful of people I'd love to thank by name. We are indebted to these people for their kindness and their help through this transition.
Shane Gainey: Thank you so much for keeping an eye out on things at our house in Florence. You're a life-saver, and I pray that we will have neighbors half as good as you have been whenever we buy a house here.
Courtney Gainey: Thank you for coming to see us before we left Florence. It probably doesn't seem like much to you, but that meant a lot to us (Charis included).
Lindsey Springs (for now, that is): Thank you for coming over on packing day to help us touch up paint and to say goodbye in person. We are already looking forward to seeing you and Joel when you two are on your way to Montana in the future. (Also, I want to thank you for coming to our wedding, now five years ago tomorrow, and I only wish we could witness yours as well.)
David, Nicole, and Anabelle (Boy, I hope that's spelled correctly!) Carleton: Thank you both for coming over to help us unpack and for keeping Charis occupied. I don't know if she learned anything about sharing, but she definitely enjoyed the company. We look forward to seeing a lot of you guys in the future. Seriously. You may have to tell us to go away.
Steve Shippy: Thanks for all of your help unpacking. I am still amazed, thinking back, at how quickly everything got unloaded and sorted.
Jeremy Shuler: Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to come and visit with us. It may have seemed like a simple gesture, but simple gestures of kindness often have great impacts. We'll see you Sunday.
The past week or so has been a whirlwind of activities, from packing to cleaning to traveling to unpacking. Sleep has been sacrificed, but outlooks have remained optimistic, even during the more stressful moments.
Today--the first day after moving in--Michelle is already out following God's leading through her Thirty-One Gifts business. A local church is hosting a children's consignment sale, and Michelle was able to rent one of only a few vendor tables for the event. It's actually a three-day event, running from 10:00-6:00 Thursday and Friday and from 9:00-2:00 on Saturday. We don't know what God will do through this event, but Michelle is being faithful to do her part, trusting God to write the Story from there.
I (Matt) will continue to put the finishing touches on things around here, unpacking what will become our living room area in the basement. (Perhaps it should be called our "retreat." That sounds fancier. And it might be more accurate.)
Before closing this post, there are a handful of people I'd love to thank by name. We are indebted to these people for their kindness and their help through this transition.
Shane Gainey: Thank you so much for keeping an eye out on things at our house in Florence. You're a life-saver, and I pray that we will have neighbors half as good as you have been whenever we buy a house here.
Courtney Gainey: Thank you for coming to see us before we left Florence. It probably doesn't seem like much to you, but that meant a lot to us (Charis included).
Lindsey Springs (for now, that is): Thank you for coming over on packing day to help us touch up paint and to say goodbye in person. We are already looking forward to seeing you and Joel when you two are on your way to Montana in the future. (Also, I want to thank you for coming to our wedding, now five years ago tomorrow, and I only wish we could witness yours as well.)
David, Nicole, and Anabelle (Boy, I hope that's spelled correctly!) Carleton: Thank you both for coming over to help us unpack and for keeping Charis occupied. I don't know if she learned anything about sharing, but she definitely enjoyed the company. We look forward to seeing a lot of you guys in the future. Seriously. You may have to tell us to go away.
Steve Shippy: Thanks for all of your help unpacking. I am still amazed, thinking back, at how quickly everything got unloaded and sorted.
Jeremy Shuler: Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to come and visit with us. It may have seemed like a simple gesture, but simple gestures of kindness often have great impacts. We'll see you Sunday.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Pages, Paragraphs, and Punctuation
Today we will make our last grocery run to Walmart. Tonight we may see some friends for the last time. And it's possible that this Sunday will be our last Sunday at NewSpring Church. I'm terrible at goodbye's, and I hate finality. I always try to avoid the uncomfortable moments in life by cracking jokes, but I can't think of anything funny to say. Whether I like it or not--whether I can find a punch line or not--this chapter is ending. Last time I looked, we were pages from the end, but now we're measuring by paragraphs and lines. Soon it will be words. And then a tiny piece of punctuation.
In the midst of this, though, I cannot help but feel the suspense building. I am already anticipating what I will find in the next paragraph. Because while this chapter ends with a period, the next one begins with a capital letter. And from what I can tell, this next chapter will be like that upper-case letter staring down at that tiny period. This is not the end. This is only the beginning of something different. And between us and all of the unknowns we are tempted to fear, there is God--the only constant amidst the chaos. He is our strength. He is our peace. He is our joy.
I took Charis to the park yesterday, and something struck me. Charis is so easily amazed. There is so much awe and so much wonder in her heart as she encounters the playground--and the world. She doesn't let the "little things" get choked by the cares and concerns of this life, which seem so large to me. And I stood there asking myself, When did I lose that wonder? When did I lose sight of the "little things" and start letting cares and concerns choke the life out of my soul?
It's easy to say that it's just part of growing up. That we have to trade silliness for seriousness. That we have to be mature. I wonder, though, if maturity isn't the presence of seriousness at the expense of silliness but rather the wisdom of knowing when to be which. Or possibly the wisdom of knowing how to be both at the same time. To teach my daughter to be fearless while ensuring that she's safe. To lay my cares at the feet of Jesus and not on the dinner table with my family. To keep my eyes and my heart open, looking for ways to worship God through the "little things" rather than losing sight of Him by obsessing over the "bigger things." Because the reality is: no matter how big the "bigger things" are, God is bigger still.
What matters, then, is perspective. We can look at the period and feel the finality and fear the unknowns. Or we can know that on the next page there is an upper-case letter. We can look at our concerns. Or we can look at the God who has already crossed all of those bridges and worked everything for our good. And we can let that understanding lead us to a child-like wonder. And to whole-hearted worship. Because in periods and in uppercase letters, God is good. He is even good on the blank page in between.
(Matt)
In the midst of this, though, I cannot help but feel the suspense building. I am already anticipating what I will find in the next paragraph. Because while this chapter ends with a period, the next one begins with a capital letter. And from what I can tell, this next chapter will be like that upper-case letter staring down at that tiny period. This is not the end. This is only the beginning of something different. And between us and all of the unknowns we are tempted to fear, there is God--the only constant amidst the chaos. He is our strength. He is our peace. He is our joy.
I took Charis to the park yesterday, and something struck me. Charis is so easily amazed. There is so much awe and so much wonder in her heart as she encounters the playground--and the world. She doesn't let the "little things" get choked by the cares and concerns of this life, which seem so large to me. And I stood there asking myself, When did I lose that wonder? When did I lose sight of the "little things" and start letting cares and concerns choke the life out of my soul?
It's easy to say that it's just part of growing up. That we have to trade silliness for seriousness. That we have to be mature. I wonder, though, if maturity isn't the presence of seriousness at the expense of silliness but rather the wisdom of knowing when to be which. Or possibly the wisdom of knowing how to be both at the same time. To teach my daughter to be fearless while ensuring that she's safe. To lay my cares at the feet of Jesus and not on the dinner table with my family. To keep my eyes and my heart open, looking for ways to worship God through the "little things" rather than losing sight of Him by obsessing over the "bigger things." Because the reality is: no matter how big the "bigger things" are, God is bigger still.
What matters, then, is perspective. We can look at the period and feel the finality and fear the unknowns. Or we can know that on the next page there is an upper-case letter. We can look at our concerns. Or we can look at the God who has already crossed all of those bridges and worked everything for our good. And we can let that understanding lead us to a child-like wonder. And to whole-hearted worship. Because in periods and in uppercase letters, God is good. He is even good on the blank page in between.
(Matt)
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Not-So-Simple Prayers
Charis' prayer at dinner tonight:
Thank You, Jesus, for my isosceles triangle pizza!"
Thank You, Jesus, for my isosceles triangle pizza!"
Three Weeks
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| Union Station, Kansas City, Missouri |
It is bitter to say goodbye to friends we care about deeply. It is bitter to know that a set of grandparents is about to lose the ability to hug and kiss their granddaughter every few days. It is bitter to leave my parents and to know that if my brother or sister ever visit, they'll visit my parents and likely not Michelle, Charis, and me. After all, money is tight, and free time is scarce. I understand that video chat will be our lifeline--from Kansas City to Florence, Philadelphia, or New York. But I also understand that video chat is a poor substitute for the interaction we'll be giving up.
On the other hand, it is truly sweet to know that a grandmother and grandfather who have cried a tear for every mile between them and their granddaughter (by conservative estimates) will soon have their turn to watch Charis grow up and explore this great big world. It is truly sweet to know that God walked through this door before we ever saw it open--to know that He has already leveled mountains and raised up valleys before us. While I am full of sadness over leaving, I am filled even fuller with the peace and joy that come from following my Savior, King, and Lord, Jesus Christ.
It is that joy--that peace--that fills my heart as the personal effects in this house are replaced by the sterile look of carboard boxes and off-white walls. As the house we had planned to grow roots in is taken from us and given to someone else.
Three weeks from today, we will begin a journey over 1,000 miles long--toward the next chapter of our lives. And we will look behind us, as we pull out of this town, with thankful hearts. The five years we've spent here have been used by God to make us into the people we are today. And we are thankful. Thankful for the memories. Thankful for every experience--good and bad alike. Thankful for every friendship--those that will survive time and distance and those that will not.
But we are also hopeful. Because we know without a doubt that God has gone before us. And we know that He is holding our hands as we begin this new chapter. We don't know every why and wherefore, but we know that God is good. We know that He has a purpose and a plan for us as we change our setting and begin this next chapter. And we know that God will take care of everything--and everyone--that we will soon leave behind.
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