I’ve taken two pictures this week. Both are connected and I’m trying to reconcile in my mind that it’s all okay.
Eleven years ago I brought a single daffodil bulb from one Montague address to the building site of another, and planted it imagining that I would have my favorite little sunshiny, hopeful flower to gaze at in the midst of the trees for the rest of my life.
But then this…
We are stepping out of the boat–AGAIN. This time, I find myself wondering if we have some screws loose. And then I remember that dreamers often appear one taco short of a combo plate.
I have called myself a reluctant dreamer because I used to think that any dream of mine was just too good to be true. It is much safer, isn’t it, to just plod along in normalcy?
But it’s way less fun.
Much like packing up an old RV and traveling to who-knows-where for who-knows-how-long, this time we’ve been packing up our house and chasing some vague yet deep-seated, faith-filled ideas.
Our home, the house that has cocooned us safely and happily for almost eleven years, the first place I’ve ever felt was home, the dwelling place Christian and I dreamed up and had built, the place that has financially burdened my husband for too, too long is on the market.
For sale. Offered up to strangers.
We have spent 6 months preparing, working our booties off painting, packing, cleaning, rearranging, and letting go.
And so far we’ve waited about 14 months for things to line up so we can buy the home we dream of.
It’s going to be a whole new world for this group.
You see, we fell in love with a dilapidated farmhouse far, far away from what we know. Its location shall remain undisclosed, but it will be a huge move. For the first time in my life I will not live adjacent to Fruitvale Rd.
We plan to have animals of all sorts to fulfill all kinds of dreams, and we plan to renovate from the bottom up, a farmhouse over a hundred years old on some of the most beautiful land we have ever seen.
Unless God changes the plan.
We’ve stepped forward toward the sea and are waiting expectantly, sometimes even patiently, for Him to part the water.
It’s scary to pack without a plan.
It’s scary to dream without a clear vision.
It’s frightening to let go of all that is familiar.
But, it really is scarier to think we missed out on the good stuff because we listened to the fear.
We don’t know where we will live. We don’t know if our house will sell. We don’t know the ending. But we do know that we will never get anywhere if we don’t take the first step.
If you are following this blog, you are about to step with us. Things are about to get really interesting.
Faith: the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen
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