“I can’t take it anymore!  God, please take this!” These were the words I silently prayed a few months ago as I stood at the kitchen sink while chaos was unfolding around me, which was part of a series of interrelated and increasingly difficult circumstances that I had encountered over the past several years.

I was raised in church.  My dad was a pastor, and throughout the years, I saw a lot of good in church … but I also saw a lot of bad.  A lot of hypocrisy.  Not from my parents and not from everyone, but from many people in the church-going community.  In my experience, instead of love and grace, much of all the church goers offered was judgment.  The very people who were supposed to show the love of Christ and to extend lavish grace and forgiveness were instead the ones to pass the most judgment and condemnation. 

I began crying this morning for no apparent reason.  Nothing (else) had happened.  I was just sitting and reading emails when the tears began to flow.  What I was reading was nothing emotional, certainly nothing that should have made me cry. My first thought was, “What in the world … why on earth am I crying?” And then it hit me.  “What in the world” is exactly why I was crying.  The weight of the world that I was carrying … it could no longer be contained and began to spill over through my tears. 

Empty.  Aside from ourselves, the business that my husband and I own and operate sits empty right now.   This small business of ours, focused on educational support, would normally be bustling with a bevy of vivacious students ready to learn along with a team of talented staff members eager to instruct. But like many other business owners, we had to close our doors last month, and so our business sits empty.  

Every day is a gift.  It’s a phrase often said and heard.  And yet most of us don’t fully realize the truth in it until something happens to get our attention. For me, it happened on a Saturday in November.  

Sitting in a pediatric hospital room by our teenaged son’s bedside, over 3 hours away from home, is not where we thought we’d be spending the Thanksgiving holiday.  This while also mourning the sudden and unexpected loss of our friend, Torey, whose funeral we consequently could not attend this week.  And additionally receiving the news that our family dog, Rascal, passed away during our absence this week.  

Despite all of the progress and advancements that have been made in this day and age, it seems that our sense of civility is somehow going in reverse.  And much of it is playing out on a 21st century frontier – online.

In my second post of this series (Hope Springs (Part 2) – All This and More), I mentioned that my family’s new home came with some unexpected blessings. The first of those blessings came from the previous homeowners, whom we met when we initially viewed the property.  In speaking with them, they shared the heartbreaking story of how their young adult son had tragically died in an accident several years prior and how they had moved into this home sometime later, after the memories in their previous home became too much to bear.  This home had been a respite for them, and they now hoped to pass the blessing on. 

In my prior post, I described how my family’s last home search took a few months.  What I didn’t describe were the circumstances surrounding us at the time. Prior to relocating, my husband, P.G., and I owned a local business, and since our move would take us three hours away, we decided to put our business up for sale.  We had a buyer rather quickly, but the selling process would take some time. 

When my family relocated in 2018, a search for a new home was in order. Our search started out promising.  We found the ‘perfect’ home the first weekend we looked, but the house went under contract the same day – alas, the one that got away.  It wouldn’t be the only one.  For the next few months, we found ourselves daily poring over real estate listings and accompanying our realtor on showings every weekend, only to find ourselves beginning the process all over again the next week.