Making a House our New Home: Part 1

Pardon the delay in my "We made it!" post.  We've stood in a hurricane of brown, cardboard boxes and wrestled with getting post office keys.  Then, the internet debacle... I'll save you from all of that.  

Technology and I have a love/hate relationship.  It veers more on the side of loathe....

Yesterday afternoon, I took a time out for a little writing.  It's not easy to A) take a break when your house looks like a storage unit rather than a home, B) write when your children are awake~ "Mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, MAMA!"  You get the idea, and C) take your I-am-an-accomplisher personality and peel it away from item A.  But, in my depths, I wanted to write.  I wanted to finish up about our amazing last day in Zion.  I did.  Among the pleas calling my name, and the skyscraper boxes lurking in the dining room, I took a break.  A long one.  Where is this post, you ask?  Somewhere lost in the middle of cyber space.  LOATHE technology.

So, that time peeled away seemed wasted.  Lost forever.  No story for my boys to read when they turn 18, and I hand over this blog ~ printed in a nice book form (hint, hint Brian) ~ to them to read of our life's adventures.  I'll rewrite it, but it will have to wait for another day.  For, I have much to say about our new latitude and longitude!...

When we pulled out of St. George, Utah on Monday morning, they boys were done.  Public Service Announcement for parents of littles: A week road trip is long enough in tight quarters.  They can't stand to be buckled in to those carseats one.more.time.  Not one.  They moan and groan if you breath the wrong way.  Nothing satisfies...not even Chick-fil-A.  Say what???!!!  

Being given the heads up that Las Vegas is absent of the "Christian Chicken," we made quick work of taking the exit heading north rather than the needed one southbound.  A scant five minutes out of the way is no big deal, but it really is no biggie when you are going to taste that original chicken sandwich for the LAST TIME.  Drama aside, there really is no Chick Fil A in Vegas?  ~Deep breaths~   Our ever so encouraging friends are gently pushing us to open one.  Sounds great!  But, we also have to plant a church.  I'm pretty sure that if we did both, we would be clawing our own eyeballs out, and maybe each others.  Not maybe, definitely.  

Brian and I did what any loving parent would do while their three children's whines and murmurs  encircled our ears, we happily ignored them as we sunk our teeth into deliciousness.

The landscape from St. George to Vegas is the harshest I had seen during our road trip.  Cruel stone mountains met a thirsty, parched ground.  Sun soaked and arid, it was hard to find life within my view.  

My mind swam with thoughts about our new place.  This was the yuckiest I felt the entire trip, and it was the closest to our new home that I had been.  Could we really do this?  How were we, southerners to the core, going adjust to life in the City-That-Never-Sleeps?  How could we go from Olivia Lane to Red Rose Ave?  How is God going to provide a regular income for us (as we homeschool and work toward launching a church in January?) ... My mind swam with the questions.

We rounded a curve, and with grand applause, that city spread out in front of us.  Sprawling, vast, and lively, it stretched as far as you could see.    

The roads led us to our new spot in the city, and the heat greeted us with a hot hello as we opened the van doors.  After 44 hours of drive time, the boys burled out like bulls in a china shop, eager to see their new digs.  

As I looked down my street, I noticed that all of the houses looked the same.  I'm sure that my eye is untrained.  Given time, I will find the originality in each architectural design.  Lone Mountain rises with might and stature just beyond our new address.          

Brian looked at countless houses with a realtor back in April.  All the ones we checked out online were fairly unsuitable for our little guys.  At the end of the last day's search, he was shown this place.  He had already found one that he loved, but it did not have enough space for our busy clan.  This one on Red Rose Ave had recently been updated with new carpet, linoleum, and fresh paint.  When I walked through the door, I could see why he felt like this was a good place to call home.  

Cozy throughout, the house welcomed me in.  I love cozy.  LOVE it.  I want my house to feel warm and inviting.  A place where you can lay on the couch with a blanket and enjoy a good read.  A kitchen that invites you to hang out and talk while preparing a home cooked meal.  Boys rooms that are lived in and signal imaginations in motion with superhero costumes and train tracks galore.      

Apparently, the back patio makes a perfect place to scatter the much missed toys that have been packed away for months.

Although piled-to-the-ceiling boxes filled these spaces, I could see the potential of warmth.  

Without delay, I began to tackle the kitchen.  A major downsize from what I am used to, I was perplexed where to put each necessity for efficiency's sake.  The boxes that were labeled "Kitchen" seemed a little ridiculous and a lot overwhelming.  This jungle of cardboard taunted me.  A bully of sorts.  And I was not about to let it defeat me.  Monday afternoon until Thursday morning, a great majority of my hours were spent in that space.  I worked those cabinets like puzzles, filling with my instruments of food prep.  Getting it just right.  Making it mine.  Feeling at home.

A little Southern charm does my heart good, y'all.

The gas man surely laughed at me as I asked him a million questions about this gas beast.
 I've never operated one and didn't really want to go down that road blindly and end up  homeless.

In my haste to get the cardboard decor out, I quickly ripped off packing tape and scurried through paper wrapped bowls and utensils.  Yet, the bold, black, inked words "Red Rose" jumped off the side of a box before I could touch it.  I did a double take and looked at the other writing on top ~ "Candles/Vases from under kitchen sink" ~ were clearly written by my friend, Jennifer.  She came over in February to help move my life into boxes.  She sat on my kitchen floor and tackled the cabinet under the sink.  "Red Rose" was not her writing.  It was written UNDER the tape that secured the flaps.  

I wondered for a minute.  Playing detective as to why these words were written here.  Many of our boxes were recycled.  Brought to us by friends who picked them up as they became available for a new home.  "Red Rose" was written on a box that was brought to us, randomly, as an act of kindness.  This box was given to us by God.  Like it is small sticky note, tucked into a junk drawer of chaos with the reminder of "I've got this" written on it.  

subtle.  

powerful.  

sweet.

We never even knew that Red Rose Ave existed until April, when Brian was brought to give it a look.  We struggled with deciding which house was best for us.  We prayed.  Felt peace.  Moved forward.  Until we saw the lease agreement.  Daunting, we second guessed our ability to be approved to rent this home.  Income is obviously a gargantuan factor on such an agreement...in which Brian had none and mine was ceasing in June.  Miraculously, we were approved.  Again, the Lord has shown us that this is the exact place and time that we are supposed to be.  We feel as though we are in the passenger seat, totally not in control.  It is a really, really good feeling.  More often than I'm proud to say, I let my circumstances dictate my feelings and actions.  I let what makes sense to my brain get in the way of believing that my God is bigger.  More capable.  Faithfully able.  

So, although we still do not have a regular income, we are doing all we know to do... all the while trusting God.  He has the perfect place for Brian to work until we launch the church in January.  He will take care of the health insurance that runs out at the end of the month.  He will provide the next month's rent.  He will provide food on our table.  He's proven Himself already.  He's still whispering those sweet "I've got this" reminders to our ears.  

‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,  Just to take him at His word;

Just to rest upon His promise,  Just to know, “Thus saith the Lord.”