Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Remembering


Sometime I remember.
I remember that three years ago this September, we saw this place on a drive, and I said, "That's IT Chuck! That's our place!"
and he said, "I think it's a church Mel!"
and I said, "Whatever it is, it's OUR place! It's how I've always seen it! That's IT. I KNOW it!"

And I remember that over the next year we had stops and starts and watched three other interested parties come forward and then decide they didn't want it and the entire time, I clung to, "If this is of God it will come to pass and if it's of man, it will come to naught."

And I remember the day came when we realized we could purchase this place.

And I remember the deacon in charge of selling telling us, "Our prayer has been, 'Lord, fill this place or sell it.'" and I told him, "With us buying it, He's doing both!"
And I remember how a rental just "happened" to open up across the road from here, so that we could walk to our renovations, rather than drive the 30 minutes our old apartment would have been.

And I remember used lumber that we pulled nails out of, so we could cut some cost in the renovations. And we did cut cost, but we paid with hours. Hours of labor which even Miraclegirl was a part of.

And I remember vacuuming cobwebs and scrubbing walls and corners and Handsome tearing apart the stage, just to prepare to move in and live minimally as soon as possible.

And I remember thinking how very, very much I loved this man, that he made my dreams, his. 

And I remember the night I drove up and saw the lights on for the first time, in the twilight and how I began crying, because, "Wow. 18 years and it was here. Our own place and our own place to fulfill a dream."

And I remember faithful friends and in-laws, evening after evening, helping us get our dream off the ground and liveable.

And I remember how I cried--again--when the first walls went up. And thought, again, "This is really happening."

And I remember hours of painting being done and the faithfulness of those who love us, helping, especially since I was in a nursing-baby-stage-still and many of my moments were spent soothing his rumpled world, rather than getting my home ready. 

And I remember us all living in one half, with belongings piled around us, and beds and dressers couches and our dining room table, all mashed in together and baths were in storage tubs.  And I was learning that contentment is not in orderly surroundings and everything being just so, but is instead, an inner state of the heart.
And I remember that it was a church and that our bedrooms, both full and waiting, are in the "Tabernacle", and I look over and watch my kid's play during the day in the "Fellowship Hall", and I remember all that, and then it occurs to me yet again.

"I live in a church. A church turned home and refuge. This has happened. It is happening."

And I grin this big sappy,
tear-filled,
GOD has done this
grin.

 Photobucket

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Disclaimer:


While this is stated on the blog purpose page, it is also an important enough disclaimer for me to feel a need to place on this front page for first-time visitors.
I am a stay-at-home-wife and mother, busy with home educating my children, doing daycare, and preparing our church-turned-home to embrace special needs and terminally ill children in need of a forever family.
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