Memories. . .

Summer is underway. The temperature is over 100* on a regular basis, we're doing swimming lessons, library, and all kinds of things. Today, Ashley was diagnosed with swimmer's ear. To my knowledge, I have NEVER had swimmer's ear, which is pretty amazing considering my time in the water as a kid and teen. So, we're out of the pool for a few days. I figure that will give me an opportunity to get caught up on work, laundry, and yard work. None of that sounds fun, but all of it is necessary!

Some things the last few weeks brought to mind a time in our family's history when God obviously wanted to show Himself to my Ashley. If you've been reading the blog for a while, you may have put together that our house flooded shortly after we moved to this town (about 6 months after). Our kids were 4 and 6 years old. We knew very few people, and had to rely on the kindness and graciousness of virtual strangers (and the Red Cross!) for a lot of elbow grease and manpower. We couldn't live in our home for 4 months (and even then it really wasn't ready to move into). One family that we knew from our previous church home let us live (rent free!) in the apartment they were paying rent on to hold until the end of August when their daughter would need it to come to college.

If it's been a while since you've lived in an apartment, you are missing an adventure. Especially an apartment complex full of college kids in the summer, when your apartment is close to the pool. However, we were thankful to have a place to lay our heads and cook our own meals. And, truly, that was the summer my kids became proficient swimmers! We spent most days out at the pool.

Our time in the apartment was drawing to a close. Obviously, we would have to be out for the student to come back to school. However -- we had no place to go. We were already paying mortgage and utilities on a house we weren't living in, as well as myriad other "tiny" expenses that compounded to mean "no way can you pay rent anywhere else."

I have often said, "There is a fine line between walking in faith and living in denial." I'm pretty sure I was in denial, but I couldn't even process another move. Our family had a trip to Oklahoma planned to visit several different friends and family members. When we returned from our trip, I think we were going to have 4 days to be out of the apartment. We loaded up to leave town, hopefully not to think about flood, contractors, living arrangements, or anything else.

Ashley was not to let it be. She has many gifts, worrying being one of her best. We were not yet out of town at the intersection of 16th and Judge Ely when she proclaimed, "We really need a place to live."

Simply because I didn't want to talk or think about it, I gave a good Mommy answer, "Yes, we do and God's going to take care of it."

Brushing that statement away like an annoying mosquito, she continued, "Okay, but we really need a place to live!!"

Now I was exasperated, and said, "Did you hear me? Don't you think God will take care of it?"

She couldn't see how God could possibly relate to her immediate and pressing need of a place to live! "Well, no! It's our problem, not His!"

Trying to calm down, I realized how recently in my own faith I had thought the same thing as my 6 year old daughter. So I reminded her, "We're God's children. In the same way that your problems are mine, our problems are His. God is going to look out for us here." I wish I could tell you that we immediately pulled the car over to pray and petition God, or that moment a truck drove by that said "follow me to your new place to live." I wish I could even tell you that immediately Ashley got it and was at peace. The truth was she muttered, "Okay" with the tone of "whatever", but I needed to hear my own words: "I am God's child. My problems are His problems. He will take care of my smallest needs."

The conversation dropped. The kids turned to their books and other car toys and Troy and I chatted about anything but the wreck that was our (lack of) living arrangement. Twenty minutes later we were driving into Anson, America (pop. 2831) when Troy's cell phone rang. It was one of the elders from our church telling us that a woman at our church was offering her parent's house for anyone who had been flooded and needed a place to live.

To this day, I don't know who that moment had a bigger impact on, me or my daughter. But I am so thankful that in that moment that her very young faith needed something real and concrete and my not-so-young faith needed peace of heart and soul, our loving Father gave us both in about 30 seconds. What a mighty God we serve.