It has been a while since I have had a chance to blog. I don't really have time to blog now, but I tend to write when the feeling strikes me.
I wanted to share with you a poem I wrote in December of last year. Jason had told me the night before that he was giving up his pastoral position at Liberty, our home church. In this process of moving across the country, I have had many people ask me how I was "holding up".
God never gives us a job to do, no matter how big or how small, that He doesn't provide the tools for. One saying that I don't particularly care for is "God doesn't give you more than you can handle".
No------God doesn't give you more than HE can handle. And if you are going to handle it, it is because He helps you through it, and there will be things that you have need of that you will have to ask Him for. Most often He doesn't carry you over or around it. But He gives you what you need to go through. Because when little tiny "us" can do something difficult for us with grace, it reflects on His love for us, and lets the world see Him.
This poem is the first step in my journey westward. I had to grieve what I was leaving behind, and He helped me tremendously with that. After Jason told me we would be leaving Liberty, I didn't know or really think much about where we would go. I was just stuck on leaving here, leaving my home. I remember walking around the house after everyone had gone to bed, tears streaming down my cheeks, tight feeling in my throat as to not wake anyone-----and this poem is what I got. It reflects a typical summer day at our house:
The Little House on Maco Drive
On a quiet street in a quiet town on a road most folks don’t drive down
There’s a house that’s much alive----
Before the curve on Maco Drive.
There in the yard are lots of swings and pines in which the birds all sing,
An occasional misplaced bee hive
At the little house on Maco Drive.
There’s bikes and bats for whiffle ball and for those that are not too small
There’s a trampoline outside
The little house on Maco Drive.
There’s a garden where food and kids both grow and in the winter piles of snow
To take a sled and slide
Down the backyard at Maco Drive.
Across the street, if you really search, through the trees you’ll see the church
With God’s sweet love inside
Down from the house on Maco Drive.
The toys, they stretch from wall to wall-----the laundry pile is always tall
And any blank space is prized
In the crowded house at Maco Drive.
Daddy’s got a project found, pick blackberries all around
The yard, Mom makes a pie
With the good things found at Maco Drive.
Children sleep hard at the end of the day, lots of work and lots more play
Bible story and bath time
A peaceful evening at Maco Drive.
The memories drip down the walls and fill the room like bittersweet.
Aching joy but thankful still for days, some dark, yet still complete.
The laughter of my young ones, etched in ceilings and in floors,
Stages of development tucked in behind the doors.
Spots where prayers were cried out by Mama on her knees,
Places where God filled the cracks with His sweet, blessed peace.
And though I know I cannot stay and linger long inside,
All the important things will come with me from Maco Drive.
Thank you for my family, Lord, I don’t deserve the joy
In a Godly man, a beautiful girl, and three precious little boys!
Following you means we must live a life of sacrifice-----
Thank you so much for the precious time
At our little house on Maco Drive.
Craziness at the second moving sale.
May you be strengthened knowing that if you have been saved by His grace, there is no place where He won't be. Love to you all.