Guess what? I am writing to you from a couch. That’s right, a couch. In a living room. It is 9:30 p.m. and there is no sleeping husband by my elbow and my kids are not within 20 feet of me. Can we have a moment of silence?
Thank you Lord for your good gifts!!
That’s right. We are in a house! Thanks to some very kind and generous friends who have a little, (okay, awesome,) casita next to their home in Arizona. 🙂 We get to sleep in real beds, and there is a bath tub, AND my own washer and dryer to use! No more carting my laundry back and forth! Are two moments of silence two too many?
For less suffering in laundry, I think not.
So needless to say, I’m living the dream. I almost don’t even feel like writing about RV life because I am soaking all this goodness in. RV life? What is that? It’s a distant memory. Right now, I have a kitchen, a house, a bathroom all to myself. It’s almost too much you guys.
I’ll be honest though, I almost wasn’t looking forward to staying at our friend’s casita, because I was worried it will make getting back into the RV that much harder. Maybe it will, BUT you know what? It’s pretty awesome, and a break from tight quarters is definitely what the doctor ordered.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, how God gives us seasons. Seasons of work, and seasons of rest. Seasons of suffering and seasons of peace. Seasons of poverty and seasons of prosperity. Literally, seasons of light, and seasons of darkness, of warmth and coldness. And in that way, it helps us appreciate each of them. If we always lived in the warmth of the sunlight, without an overcast day, we wouldn’t realize how beautiful and wonderful the sun really is. And we would actually love those cool and rainy days, because they have a different kind of beauty.
And so as we come from a season of cramped space, sand, and driving our dirty clothes to a laundromat, we can bask in the goodness of a season that has the absence of it.
Times like these are the streams in the desert. The oasis in the wilderness. Like the one we visited last week in the middle of Joshua Tree National Park.
This is our Cottonwood Springs. A place of refreshment. A place to spread out and relax. A place to drink deep of couch-sitting, bath-tubing, and a full-size fridging. A place where we can finally get the alllll sand out of our bed.
And so instead of worrying about what “suffering” will come on the other side of this sweet spot, and wondering if the enlarged space will make our home on wheels feel even smaller, I am going to ENJOY this time, knowing that in all of it He goes with us, and in all of it, He is good. And He gives us seasons of rest—so we can do exactly that: REST.
Well, I wrote that last week. Last week, and as my eyes got heavy sitting on the COUCH I closed the computer and never returned. I thought what I wrote was horrible. Turns out, it isn’t. I mean, it’s not genius, but it’s also life. And it’s been a whole week since I wrote that, and I’ve almost forgotten how amazing it is to sit on a couch because now I am used to it.
Funny how that works, isn’t it?
Things are such an enormous blessing to us one day–and in a week, or two, or a month, they become commonplace. Ordinary. We take them for granted.
Oh Lord, may we not do so. May we not forget how blessed we are to have the things we have and do the things we do, for as long as we can. They are blessings. All of it.
Today, we went to the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon! A massive, mile deep jagged rock canyon. Unbelievable.
Fourteen years ago this month, perhaps this same day, Darrell and I went to the Grand Canyon for the first time in our baby years of marriage. Like with no babies, like when our marriage was in the baby phase. That’s what I mean. Anyway, there we stood today, in almost the exact same spot–with five beautiful young lives standing next to us. What a gift. Our family has blossomed. Our quiver overflows.
Standing there on the edge of a cliff 14 years ago, I knew I wanted children, but I never would have guessed we would be given five of them. So blessed are we. Five energetic, blonde, bustling, creative and crazy kids. And my prayers were answered and we took five beautiful children home too! (That rim is scary and kids who love to run and climb are too!).
But as I looked at the picture of our little family standing there, I am reminded how much has changed in our family and how little has changed in the Grand Canyon. Like nothing. Like maybe one little rock somewhere is a little more worn by the water? Maybe? Probably not.
The Canyon is still there. It is still massive and awe-inspiring. It was here before me, before my five kids, and it will be here after us all. Life is so short.
I guess it makes sense, but the older I get the more I realize it’s true. Life IS short.
So play hard. Love big. Laugh more. Go to the places you’ve always wanted to go. Do that thing you’ve always wanted to do. Hug and kiss like you mean it. Live for what matters most, and what will live on after you. Love people and use things, not the other way around. Take stock of where you are headed and make adjustments if needed. Fear not. Jesus is real, and the things He says about life and love and money really are true. May we all have ears to hear and the guts to obey.
I am going to need to read this to myself in a week, because boy oh boy, I am a coward like the next person in the free-fall line at Six Flags. In fact, I am not even in that line! Haha. I give into temptation, I believe lies, I trust the wrong things and look for my worth every place else other than Jesus more days than I’d like to admit.
But I don’t want to.
I want to believe Jesus and go where He sends me in faith and obedience, trusting in His ever lasting goodness. Yes, I want more of that.
So if it means moving and letting go of the things I’ve held so dear for so long, then so be it. If it means going without a place to call “home” in the U.S. for a few years, so be it. If it means my kitchen is the size of a pack n’ play, there is forever sand in my bed, and hauling laundry is a daily job, so be it.
No it’s not easy. There are moments of heart ache, of a longing to sit on my OWN couch in my OWN home. There are moments when we are all going crazy in a fraction of the space we are used to. Moments when I wonder why are we doing this and what will our future be?
But there is joy in knowing Him and experiencing Him in the midst of the hard moments. There is a peace knowing not only does He lead us, but He is with us. Emmanuel.
And while there will always be an amount of suffering in following Him (maybe small, maybe great), there will also be places of rest and restoration– like casitas and canyons.