Moving to Texas: Part 2

Part one of the moving to Texas was basically about packing up and preparing to leave.  This part will be about the drive.  Both are simply telling the mechanics of our move.  Getting to the heart of what it means to me will need to wait for part three.  I'm still mulling that one over.

Driving to our new home involved a packed-to-the-roof 26-foot Penske truck, the largest they rent to non-CDL drivers, towing our packed-to-the-roof minivan behind, and driving Nathaniel's Ford Escape.  Three drivers, two steering wheels, one of which is a normal drive, the other terrifying.

A Pause for Persimmons

Yes, I'm between Posts 1 and 2 about our move to Texas, but I must have a brief interruption to get this off my chest:

I have discovered persimmons.

Moving to Texas: Part One

After several weeks of packing; three days of loading, re-loading, and taking stuff to storage; three days of cleaning the emptying house; 4 days of driving, one morning of unloading, and two weeks (or more?) of unpacking I think it's safe to say that the dust from our move is beginning to settle.

I have neither the skill nor the time to write an entire history of these past few weeks, but I can focus on a few highlights which must not be forgotten.

For the Foreseeable Future- Last Things

Well, it's all coming together.  Our move is imminent and we are on the final leg of preparations.  The truck will be here in nine days for loading, and in the meantime we have pulled the pictures and the shelves from the walls downstairs and have painted over the patching of the holes.  Our living room is now a storage/staging area for the packed boxes.  The plans for where we will stay as we pack up our house here and before we unpack in San Antonio have been made.  The flight plan for Bekah, Patrick, and Isaac is in place.

And I'm beginning to savor Last Things here in our beautiful home state.

Abundant Answer to Prayer

I had grown weary.

        I was increasingly anxious.

                   I was beginning to doubt that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

And now, I am numb, from the overwhelming clouds of goodness which broke over my head yesterday afternoon.

Life on "Pause"

I'm beginning to feel like Bill Murray's character in the movie "Groundhog Day" in that I seem to be having the same conversation over and over and over again.  It begins with the question, "So, do you have a moving day yet?"  

Bedraggled Believer

The "Footprints in the Sand" poem by Mary Stevenson, written in the 1930's, has been given a slight update in cartoon format which is making the rounds of the various Social Media sites.  It seems to resonate with many of my friends; I know it grabbed my attention.

The Necessity of The Average

Wildflowers on the uncut hillside were basking in the slanting rays of the morning sun as billowy clouds meandered across the bluest of skies.  A Mockingbird on the wires overhead sang his morning ballad.  This was my reward as I climbed the small hill at the far end of Thursday morning's run.  Some folks I know carry a phone with a camera in order to snap an occasional photo when they run, but nothing would capture this scene, complete with the song of the Mocker and the feelings of exhilaration and lightness which rose in my heart as I experienced this gift of beauty.  Thursday morning I was given the gift of a glimpse of perfect beauty.

Time? Time! Who's Got The Time?!

I have no time for any meaningful writing these days.  The few times that I've even been able to get out for a run I have "written" brief sketches of what I'd like to be able to get into a post, but then I never make it that far.  So, in order for me to get some of it out of my head— where it may very likely get lost—here are the bullet points:

Strangers and Pilgrims

For our family devotional time each morning we read a Psalm, or portion of one, and the corresponding entry from our daily devotional reading by John Calvin in Heart Aflame.  Actually, because we have missed a few,... okay, several, daily readings, we read two-days worth each morning that we gather for devotions.  One of these days we will catch up to the current reading by the calendar, but for now the pace is sufficient and the Lord has blessed many of the readings with a timeliness unrelated to the actual date yet pertinent to our circumstances.

So Much to Share, So Little Time.

The past year has been so very full.  Quite honestly, a quick share on Facebook has been easy to zip off when anything of substance which would require deeper reflection and more careful treatment has been neglected.  There has been much of substance in our circumstances in the past many months: much joy, and much pain.  In that neglect, perhaps some of the reflection, whether in written form or not, has also slipped to the wayside.  Perhaps,... maybe not.

I have at my bedside a small red volume which I found in a used book store shortly after we moved here.  The title is Streams in the Desert, and it is a daily devotional, compiled by Mrs. Charles E. Cowman and published in 1925.  I don't read it every day, such regularity of habit is foreign to my nature.  I did, however, pick it back up the other night and read several day's worth of passages.  They seemed to be speaking right to my heart, as if the Lord knew precisely what I needed to hear, which I trust that He does. and were a balm to my soul.  One passage followed by a poem drew me particularly in, and I'd like to share it here.

The way to peace and victory is to accept every circumstance, every trial, straight from the hand of a loving Father; and to live up in the heavenly places, above the clouds, in the very presence of the Throne, and to look down from the Glory upon our environment as lovingly and divinely appointed.

I prayed for strength, and then I lost awhileAll sense of nearness, human and divine;The love I leaned on failed and pierced my heart,The hands I clung to loosed themselves from mine;But while I swayed, weak trembling, and alone,The everlasting arms upheld my own.

I prayed for light; the sun went down in clouds,The moon was darkened by a misty doubt,The stars of heaven were dimmed by earthly fears,And all my little candle flames burned out;But while I sat in shadow, wrapped in night,The face of Christ made all the darkness bright.

I prayed for peace, and dreamed of restful ease,A slumber free from pain, a hushed repose;Above my head the skies were black with storm,And fiercer grew the onslaught of my foes;But while the battle raged, and wild winds blew,I heard His voice and perfect peace I knew.

I thank you, Lord, You were too wise to heedMy feeble prayers, and answer as I sought,Since these rich gifts Your bounty has bestowedHave brought me more than all I asked or thought;Giver of good, so answer each requestWith your own giving, better than my best~Annie Johnson Flint

The Lord has continued, as He ever has without fail, to give us better than our best.

I will share the substance or the Lord's good, wise, and better gifts soon.

Testing, testing...

Hello,... hello...  Is this thing on?

It has been so long since I have regularly posted anything here on my blog that my brain will need some limbering up.  It's not that I haven't had anything to say, I've had plenty.  The time that it takes to type anything out, edit, re-read it, make final revisions, and then finally post it has been in short supply.  (Yes, I actually edit what I put here- my typing skills are sadly deficient, so I must carefully re-read everything I attempt.)

I will be putting down some thoughts soon.  As usual, I have to run now.

This has been a test of the Grateful blogging system.

Partial Retraction

As I was washing up in the kitchen this evening, thinking over the events of the day, my mind wandered again to my previous post, Because You Are Different.  In a flash I realized that I had committed a grave error in the opening remarks to the post.  I wrote:

The letter which I labored over and revised many times became something which I not only wish someone had told me when I was 13-years old, but something which I may need to remind myself even still.

Can you spot the error?  It leaps off the screen at me now.  It's positively glaring...

Because You Are Different...

This weekend the high school girls from our homeschool co-op had a retreat where they could get some real time to fellowship with one another away from their schoolwork and share devotional time with the Lord.  The hostess for the girls asked each of the women from our co-op to write the girls a letter, all of which she would bind together into a book for each girl to keep.  What a thoughtful treasure.

The letter which I labored over and revised many times became something which I not only wish someone had told me when I was 13-years old, but something which I may need to remind myself even still.  I pray that our girls take away blessed memories from this weekend, and that they reap enduring reward from the love of God, expressed through each of the Moms in their letters to them.