doors

I am bleary eyed and have struggled with getting the kids names right all day...Mama is tired as she's ever been and baby girl struggles at night and sleeps her days away, literally waking up angry as the kids are going to bed.  

But.

The Lord is doing something, and I have to write it down. 

There are some of you I should be having this conversation with instead of pointing you to our blog...but I don't have the 30 minutes each to call and tell the story...and anytime I try to get on the phone, 11 people need something, anyway.

A few weeks ago, Matt asked me to pray about looking at houses. We bought our house two years ago as a final family of six, and adding two pre-teen girls to the mix and a baby on the way has tightened up the situation significantly. 

But.  

I love this house, and I love this community. I hate change of any kind and have had an awful lot of it lately already. I am a "make it work" kinda girl, and we can make this work always. Even if we can't all sit at the table together at the same time. Even if we've lost the guest room and Emma has to live in our room until Lily goes to college.  We can make this work.

He asked me to pray about it and be open-minded to even looking, and I said no and prayed no, and even when I stopped saying no because he was getting frustrated with me, I prayed no all the same. 

When he sent me houses to look at, I felt sick. When he told me about places that could be good, I pretended to listen like a good wife would, and clenched down in my heart.

Not the right thing. Not the right time. Not the right house.  I'm having a baby and getting finger-printed for foster care and cooking dinner and I am not open to any more change, nor am I gonna go praying for it.

So we had court Monday, and delivered sweet Emma Tuesday night, and by the time we were home, crazy man was sending me Zillow links again. I sat in my chair Thursday morning to complain to the Lord about my husband, his insanity and how to get him to drop it, because Stacey White Ayars has FINALLY rooted after a brutal uprooting, and shall not be moved again.

As I was telling the Lord all this, explaining my side and knowing He would surely be on it, His clear voice interrupted me with a "are you telling me about your will or asking me about mine? If your husband is asking you to be open, actually ask me for an open heart."

I'm sure my cheeks turned pink, for the Lord knows me well and it's not often pretty. 

You're right, Lord, I confessed, ashamed. What do I do?

Go the extra mile to show him you're hearing him. Instead of continually shutting him down, offer him a genuine effort.

So.

I still begrudgingly got on Zillow, selected "five mile radius", and "five bedrooms", picked the house out of the five resulting houses that was the cheapest, and sent Matt the link, 30 second proof to God and husband that I was (kindof) trying.

I didn't look past the first three or four pictures or do any research.  Cause I'm not moving.  I'm just proving.

Matt didn't like the house, sent me five more. I threw up my hands. At least I triedish.  Done. 

This Monday afternoon, he called and asked if I'd go with him and a relator-friend to a few of his favorite ones, if the realtor could get us in last minute.  Matt sent him a list of possible places, and our friend called back a few minutes later and said he could only get us in two on Monday: the one Stacey had found, and one other.

Begrudgingly trying to continue to convince the Lord that I was trying to be open, we packed up Ben and Emma, left the girls to the movie National Treasure, me a hot mess in an oversized t-shirt...the only thing that fits that wasn't covered in milk stains, and headed to "my" house choice.

We didn't love lots of things as we drove up. But the relator was there, the family had left, I had to give it a courtesy call. We started to walk around, me trying to keep it together and Matt not loving all the elements that were totally different than the gorgeous, modern houses he had chosen.

But then there were a slew of books on a bookshelf by his favorite authors.  Bible verses on the walls. Books written by colleagues, studies Matt has studied. A homeschool room full of the same books I know cover to cover...how long I have longed for a dedicated homeschooling space, where science experiments and art projects can stay out past each afternoon and stacks of books aren't covering the kitchen table.  

This house, it wasn't the countertops. It wasn't the crown molding, not the size of any room nor the style of the kitchen.

It was the desk next to the bed, Bible still open, glasses sitting on top as if the owner had been sitting right there reading God's Word when we had kicked them out for a moment. It was "The Penderwicks" series, well-worn as the exact same on Lily's desk we are reading through this summer. It was the maps on the walls of unreached countries for Jesus, the reminders everywhere toward mission and Jesus. 

It was a sacred space, obviously dedicated to the discipling of many children in Christ, and finding the Spirit there quickened us both.

I headed upstairs to see the kids bedrooms, guessing the family had five or six kids, and one after another you could see the love of the Lord poured out on those rooms...three spacious bedrooms, enough for our crew and one smaller, good for friends and family and visitors and eventually Emma or Ben.

As I stood in a girls room, enjoying the light and the brightly painted Bible verses, thinking of the six girls God has placed in my care, I went to leave, my eyes moving up to a plate mounted on the wall with the occupants name, and my heart stopped in my chest, dropped right out.

I called Matt upstairs as he told me about John Oswalt's book that the owners had (the last president at WBS), and pointed to the plate.

Because we know this family.

They are leaving, in August, to be missionaries in Africa. 

Leaving their lives and family and friends and church behind in Mississippi, we have been praying for them. 

Sending their first born to Asbury University to room with our small group leader's first born, taking their five others and moving continents to share God's love and life.  They had shared their hearts and stories at Wesley Biblical Seminary and Matt had been so impressed and moved by their story and obedience, he had written a check. The mom and I had talked about getting together after baby came to talk about Haiti and Africa and pray together.  Lily and their sons went to church camp together. We've been trying to find a time for them to come for dinner before they go.

I never thought about them moving. I never thought about them having a house. I had never met one of them. 

I pulled their house basically out of the phone book so that Matt and the Lord would leave me alone. And we went and walked through one house, the first house,  and it was holy. And of all the millions of people it could have randomly belonged to, it was theirs. 

On our way downstairs, misty eyed and still stunned, we stopped at a large painting of a church over the piano, and Matt pointed to the signature of the artist. Julie, our small group leader and dear friend.

We called them on our way home. Told them we had been in their house. 

We came home and walked our neighborhood with our seven like we do most nights, talking to them about the house on the way.  I choked up at that the thought of considering leaving our neighborhood, our neighbors. They have been sweet community and a mission field. 

We collected the kids and headed back to show them the house, all of us finally meeting all of this family we have prayed for.

I asked mama if it was killing her to leave their home of 16 years. She said she didn't mind, for their calling to Africa is strong.

The only thing that's breaking my heart, she said, is leaving this community. We've had such sweet community in this neighborhood, and we have shared Jesus and prayed for these homes around us for years. 

I started crying then and haven't much held off since.

We sat with them for a few hours, and the next morning offered a contract on their home, our final crazy fleece. We offered exactly what they were asking, but by the time our relator got it in on Tuesday, they had several other contracts also pending.  

"It's competitive," he warned us. "If you want this house, you should consider offering more."

Matt and I looked at each other and both knew with total peace.

"It sounds weird, but we're believing that the Lord led us to this house, and we're not going to fight or bid for it. They're asking for what they need, and we can affordexactly that. If we get the house, it is the last and clear open door. If we do not, we trust that we're not supposed to have it.  So, I know it's a little crazy, but. We're good.  If we don't get it, we're staying put, and trusting that's what the Lord has."

He called us back yesterday afternoon, and we have a house. 

A house that's a little bit bigger.  Three girls bigger. A house that can start over with our augmented family. A house that has been dedicated to training up kiddos and loving neighbors and Jesus and the world for 16 years, a house that is sending off its' missionaries. A house that is just gonna keep being and doing all the same things. 

We just named our little surprise girl "Emmaline: peaceful home" praying that we would be just that for whomever God brings us, and suddenly, despite all my resistance and all of Matt's other plans and all of the craziness of this season, the Lord has supernaturally provided a spiritually peaceful home that perfectly fits the leaps of faith that He has helped us take these past months.

And He did it first and in two days and clear, for my weary heart.  

He's been working in the future as we've tried to be faithful in the present. He's been preparing a gift that we couldn't ever of made happen for ourselves, and I don't know what to do with that but cry (I did have a baby 9 days ago, so I am giving myself some grace) and keep on walking through the doors He's holding open...some hard, some painful, some crazy...yet all sweet because we're walking through them with Him.

I couldn't have followed Him in all of these ways--from leaving Haiti to joining Wesley Biblical Seminary to now having our third home study with CPS--if He hadn't been so obviously in it, preparing a home for a family I never planned for, moving ahead of us graciously and lovingly, providing for the future as we've stepped out on Him in the present. 

So.

I guess we're moving.

Pray for us as I trust Him with the hard things...first and foremost not living next door to Lady Jane and Mr. Henry (Matt has promised to bring everyone in and take everyone home for Sunday dinners, but...not the same as being next door each day), then leaving this street and home and neighbors and true community that we LOVE deeply.  Pray for the suddenly ridiculously long list of things that must be done to buy a home, sell a home, and move 9 people. Pray for us as we are spending much time each day trying to complete foster care requirements due to the girls having already been with us for several months.  This has included hours of paperwork, medical tests, pet records, car, tax, job, house records, interviews for all nine (well, 8) of us, background checks, twin beds instead of the queen, purchasing carbon monoxide alarms and fire extinguishers, etc.  Pray for silly me as I let go of things that are not important...but pinch...as we step out again and more.

Praise the Lord with me for His unfailing love and for His clear open and closed doors...for we are too, too tired for confusion. Praise the Lord for all the needs we are trusting Him to meet, and most, that He who calls is faithful.

Friends, He who calls is faithful.

Today, if you hear His still small voice...today if you know and see so clearly what you should do...GO friend.  When I'm up in the night with our Emma girl, I will be holding your ropes on the adventure that is following Jesus.