This morning as Malea and I got ready to do our workout I was dreading it because it was Morning Meltdown 100 Lit Cardio, which pretty much just means a lot of jumping. Every time this workout comes around I dread it and procrastinate pushing play. But as we got into the workout this morning—as I was huffing and puffing—I was struck by how significant, and somehow appropriate, it was that Lit Cardio was going to be the last workout I ever did in this house. The parallels are too uncanny.
Lit Cardio is the workout you dread from the moment you see it’s the next workout on the list, you put it off, all the while somehow trying to convince yourself you have to do it, and you will survive—after all it is only 20 minutes. And this last season of life has been much like that, there were days I didn’t think I would survive, so many mornings I had to convince myself to get out of bed, to keep pushing through, all the while convincing myself that I would survive, and I would be stronger on the other end. And funny enough it has been 2 years—similar to the short 20 minutes of Lit Cardio—a short season, but the hardest one yet.
After sharing those thoughts, about the parallels with my workout group on Voxer, I started thinking about how I’ve been so emotional about this move, wondering why, since I am so ready to move on from this season. And I think what I’ve realized is that it comes down to expectation. I was super sad to leave our Sunriver house but I was also really excited about this house. For years we had said we wanted to live in this neighborhood, because we love it here, so when the Lord just dropped this house in our laps we were so excited to be able to live here. This isn’t the fanciest, or the biggest house we’ve lived in, but when it comes to character, it is definitely the coolest house we’ve ever lived in. I think the reason I’m so sad is because I had such great expectations for this house. Our first 4th of July we hosted over 50 people in our backyard and it was amazing, that was what I was expecting—more fun, freedom from years of house projects, freedom to write with the Lord, and not always just about cleaning and organizing; but that was a blip, and then life came crashing down.
My dear friendships crumbled, my marriage imploded, Malea was struggling with friends at school, and I was watching her wash away, my relationship with my in laws crumbled, and I couldn’t do anything about any of it. All I could do was cry out to the Lord to get me though each day, and spend time in the presence of the Holy Spirit, continually asking Him for wisdom and strength.
I have had my biggest fits of rage in this house, but from that raw place, I have had my most intimate encounters with the Lord in this house—He has laid with me when all I could do was cry, He has knelt by my bed and ministered to me when I had no words, He has held me in His arms and rocked me when I was having a morning of despair, He had never been more real to me as He has the last two years. That is what I walk away with, from this house, memories of deep intimacy with the Lord, and for that I am beyond thankful.
But those weren’t the memories I was expecting to make in this house and I think that is what my spirit is wrestling with as it’s time to say goodbye tomorrow morning. I am sad.
Sad for the aches and pains my heart has endured over the last two years, but I know there is purpose in all of it. I know the Lord is leading me somewhere, I’m just not sure where yet. There is so much to be thankful for, the benefits of such an awful season—shedding unhealthy friends who were holding me back, not lifting me upward; a marriage that is stronger, honest and real; and all they ways the Lord has reclaimed the pieces of Malea, and I’ve been able to watch her grow. I am thankful, truly grateful and excited to see where God is taking us, but I’m also struggling to say goodbye to this house because it’s such a cool house, I feel like it deserved more from us. We didn’t give it our best, because we couldn’t. But I wanted to, and now I hate to leave because I feel like I want to redeem it, but that isn’t my role.
The new owners will get to do that, and they will love this house and make a beautiful home here, and we will move onto our new house and the Lord will move us farther along in our journey. Our new house will usher in a season of life, which is why it also feels so significant that we are moving on Good Friday. We are laying down this season of “death” and walking into a season of resurrection, life and fulfillment of promises.
So much makes sense now, our house had to fall out of escrow and take forever to sell because the Lord wanted us to move on Easter weekend. It’s truly amazing how He orchestrates the chapters of our lives and how symbolism is so important to Him. So tomorrow I will grieve, and my heart will ache, but Sunday morning I will wake up with new hope, new expectations, and I will wait to see what the Lord is going to do next.
He gave me this verse to hold onto, last year, and reminded me of it again today,
“This entire building is under construction and is continually growing under His supervision until it rises up completed as the holy temple of the Lord himself. This means that God is transforming each one of you into the Holy of Holies, His dwelling place, through the power of the Holy Spirit living in you!” Ephesians 2:21-22