From the Archives: Friends In Unlikely Places

(I am taking a bit of a bloggy break this week. I am posting some of my all-time top 5 posts throughout this week. Enjoy)

Nine years ago, my home was flooded, I wasn't living in my house, I had a husband whose job required him to travel, two small children, we were being sued (I haven't told that captivating story on the blog), and I was keeping a baby 2-3 days a week. In short, I was a wreck.

I ran myself over to what would have been the closest gym if we lived in our house and signed up. I decided that I deserved just a little bit of me time and that was going to be it. I had no idea the significance that decision would play in the next 9 years of my life.

Soon I was attending classes there and met Laura, who had also recently joined that gym. Laura is a local preacher's wife who likes to not fit the preacher's wife mold. My earliest memory of her at the gym -- NO idea what we were discussing, but Laura laughed and said, "Honey, we've been married almost 15 years. If I shave my legs, that's foreplay." Yeah, I was going to like Laura.

I think Amy was there all along. Amy is a little more like me. Seemingly quiet... until she has an opinion. I know when the gym moved to "the new place" (where it's been for 7 years now) that Amy was there and that's when Amy and Laura and I all started going to some of the same classes regularly.

Before too long I got a job -- stinkin' income! -- and had to quit that regular class and sorely missed my friends. I would catch them on every other Friday, but it wasn't the same (of course). In time, I quit that job (theoretically to write, but we all know it was so I could work out with my friends! :-)

The class that we went to most often together was a weights class -- Body Pump if you know it. I'll be honest. We would talk all the way through it. Oh, we were working out (want to feel my biceps?) but we were catching up on life and diverting our attention from the pain in the mean time.

For the record -- we were frequently in trouble in class for our talking. We got talked to by the teacher -- and would stop talking for a while. Then the people on the other side of the class would start talking, inspiring us to continue our conversations. Until we got ugly looks from the front row. Or chewed out by the angry exerciser. And the cycle would start again. Truly, we had long conversations (at Starbucks -- not in class) about this.

Through class or at Starbucks we discussed it all, big and little. We talked our way through children's illnesses and surgeries, sports victories, defeats, and struggles, we've wrestled, prayed, and cried through two husband's unemployments, struggled over parenting decisions and children's heartbreaks, frequently coming to tears right there at the weight rack.

Muscles and bodies grew stronger, and so did the friendship. I honestly had NO IDEA how much those girls -- my "gym buddies" as they became known around my house -- meant to me. Until I needed someone to be strong. Or consistent. Or both. And they were.

(My two closest gym buddies, Amy, far left, and Laura, in yellow then me, and Rebekah our body pump instructor, far right, my last day at Body Pump the day I moved)

Walking in Faith

Originally Published on Word for Today

"Now the Lord was gracious to Sarah as He had said, and the Lord did for Sarah what He had promised."  Genesis 21:1

Sighing from the tips of my toes, I leaned my head on the seatback of the car. We were on our way out of town. If ever my family needed to leave town – and the mess and mayhem – it was now.

Less than a year ago, we were so thrilled for my husband to get a job at the university where we met. We couldn’t wait to get our children moved to our new town and start the life that the Lord had for us here. Little did we know that the Lord had us on a path of learning to trust that was hard to walk.

Six months after we moved in, 8 inches of muddy water flooded our home. I tried to ‘keep my chin up’ as my home went into demolition phase.  My belongings that weren’t destroyed by the flood were crammed willy-nilly into various and sundry places.  We moved into an apartment complex across town full of college students thoroughly enjoying summer vacation. 

Granted, we were thankful to have the apartment. There were none to be had in town since so many people were in the same situation. We were able to live in the apartment rent-free for a few weeks to hold it for a college student. She wouldn’t need the apartment for six weeks. Surely we could be back in our house by then, right?

Part of my husband’s job required travel, so many days it was just the three of us. I talked to the Lord often, and prayed to radiate Him through the loneliness and annoying circumstances. Besides annoying, floods can take as much toll on finances as a move. We were heading for financial crisis. I prayed to trust.

Now, we were getting out of town for a previously planned vacation to visit friends. But when we returned from our trip, we would have 4 days to find a place to live and get moved.

I have learned there is a very, very fine line between walking in faith and walking in denial. I was leaning WAY over on the denial side.

The kids were settled with books and music. I was happy for a moment to think of anything other than reality. My 6-year-old, however, found it the perfect opportunity to think of exactly that – and worry.

We had just passed the first red light out of the apartment complex when she spoke up, “We really need to find a place to live.” Oh, boy. I didn’t want to think about it, and I sure didn’t want to talk about, so I dreamed up an answer and tossed it back without opening my eyes, “Yes, we do, and God’s going to take care of it.”

I would love to tell you I believed that.

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

Now I was exasperated and responded more sharply than necessary, "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 thought the same thing. I started again, calmly, to remind her (and myself), "We're God's children. In the same way that your problems are my problems, our problems are His problems. God is going to look out for us."

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 she 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 while my husband and I chatted about anything but the wreck that was our (lack of) living arrangement.

Twenty minutes later we were driving through Small Town, America (pop. 2831) when my husband'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 the moment that her young faith needed something concrete and my not-so-young faith needed peace of heart, our loving Father gave us both.

Praying for the South

Our family had lived in this house (and town) 6 months when a flood hit this area. While we "only" got 8 or 9 inches in our house, if you know anything about flooding, that is total devastation to the construction of the house, as well as MANY belongings.

We would rip out carpet, sheetrock, throw away ruined belongings. When my being and brain couldn't stand it anymore, I would step outside to catch my breath -- and that was equally depressing. For as far as my eyes could see from my front door, people were in the same situation. Neighbors were helping each other haul personal belongings and treasures to the side of the road for the National Guard to come and toss it away, ruined. It looked like a war zone, only with the houses still standing.

We were unable to live in our house for 6 months and when we moved back in we had no kitchen -- NOTHING, no floors anywhere other than the carpet in the bedrooms, and only one functioning toilet, shower and bathtub -- but no sinks. We brushed our teeth and washed our hands in the bathtub.

Of the things I have been through in my life -- unemployment, marriage implosion, etc. -- I cannot walk back through the time of the flood. I testify to a lot of things and tell of God's grace and faithfulness through it all, and of course that is true of the flood as well, but that is SUCH a black time for me that I simply can't talk about it. There are many factors that make that true, but it causes me to just cringe at natural disasters for people.

I think about the fact that many of the people facing the rebuilding after a tornado won't even have a front door to step outside. Many will be facing rebuilding while grieving the loss of a loved one - or more than one. And I imagine that it will be a season of blackness for a very long time for so many people. It will be a years-long process of fighting back and standing together, grieving what was and building what will be.

As for me, far be it from me that I should sin against the Lord by failing to pray for you. 1 Samuel 12:23

John Dobbs has an excellent list of resources and ways to help on his blog.