And so??? Longest blog ever…
When I was growing up there was a ride at nearby Six Flags Great America (a big theme park) that involved spinning its riders so hard in a contained room that they could watch the floor drop away from their feet, without dropping themselves. I could take a moment to find out whether the force holding them safely in place (sort of) was centrifugal or centripetal, or I could just test to see if my brother reads this blog by waiting to let him tell me. I’m gonna go with plan B.
This ride is what comes to mind when I try to think of a parallel for our experience here in Kansas City over the past couple of weeks. For the first week here, OJ was in Tacoma, so I was hanging tight with the kiddos here at my sister’s place. Which is lovely, but not exactly large enough to comfortably accommodate all eight of us. Enjoyably, hospitably, beautifully, yes. But maybe not quite comfortably, especially since I am eight months pregnant and for no discernible reason cannot sleep on certain beds. But that was fine, because my sisters and I and anyone we could enlist were the fiercest house hunting force to be found. Looking everywhere, searching high and low, overturning every stone. My sister Lizzie became a full-time craigslister, an addiction she has sadly not yet overcome. We scouted out the neighborhoods and the neighbors, with a few adventures on the way. Let’s just take a moment to recall, folks, that we are moving from the West coast to Missouri. How could there not be adventures?
On our first trip out here, several weeks before, we had already looked at a few places, but when we prayed about a very reasonable, nice place Lizzie had hunted up for us, we felt the Lord say it was too small. It was three bedrooms, nice location, nearby, good place. However, our plan has been to have my incredibly wonderful younger sister (Annie) live with us during this year she has taken between high school and college. Lucky us! We get to beat off the throngs of boys, and she gets to hang out with some extremely talkative kiddos, and a new baby nephew. Anyone who knows Annie knows that the privilege of having her around is not one to be taken lightly. So…we could see why three bedrooms would be crammed a bit.
So there we were. This might be considered the part of the ride where the floor drops out. No home, the sudden revelation dawning that we were not the most desirable tenants, having no job and claiming to be “starting a business,” there we were. With a very full u-haul parked in front of my sister’s fwam-packed house. Speaking of full, did I mention my uterus? As I write, we expect to welcome baby in around 4 weeks. It was at this point that we stepped up the search efforts. Simultaneously, a dear friend of Lizzie’s went on a ten-day trip, and offered us a place to stay in their absence. We moved into a lovely, spacious home with a bed that was extremely friendly to my back and hips, and all the shenanigans of third trimester sleep efforts. See why I compare it to the Six Flags ride? In reality, you are perfectly fine, but the mental effect is one of danger and disaster…
Back to the severe house hunt… On the one hand, common sense was saying to go lower and smaller in hopes of overcoming the rental odds not in our favor. But on the other hand, we felt like the Lord had said there would be space for Annie, our family, our office, and even friends to stay with us. I won’t tell you all the places we visited, but suffice it to say, some led to outbursts of tears, some to outbursts of laughter (okay I have to tell you about one of those), and some to resigned shrugs. “It could work…” One house we visited had a lovely view of a golf course, and an intriguing layout. It was odd, but interesting, somewhat clean and seemingly filled with potential. I was trying to wrap my head around it, figuring out who would go where, when I exited to join OJ talking with a neighbor. Now, this neighbor was of the stereotypical, concerning type if one were to think in terms of concerning stereotypes of potbellied, undereducated midwestern/southerners (History leaves me confused as to which Missourians are. I think it is a matter of personal choice.) Well, there are always one or two in a neighborhood, I thought. He looked me over and began, “Well, I aint gonna lie to ya. You got to be careful about the neighbors. Behind ya, over there, ya got a mental house. They put all the people what can’t be let out in there.” He went on with a few other less repeatable warnings about other neighbors we should watch for, and we took our leave. Thankfully, that was followed by laughter, not tears. But it definitely lowered the standards to make way for more sholder-shruggers. “Well, it’s better than…”
Back in high school, which I experienced in inner-city Chicago, I lost my best friend to Missouri when she moved back down to her parent’s hometown. We wrote to each other about all the odd characters and the cultural juxtaposition she experienced. We laughed and laughed when she met an actual, real-life overalled man named “Bubba.” I remember she did some crying, too. She loved the city. I never thought it would happen to me. Don’t get me wrong. Kansas City has some great, fabulous culture, areas, vibrancy. But I wouldn’t exactly call it…cosmopolitan. Then again, I doubt anybody would call me cosmopolitan. So things will no doubt work out better than I might have at first felt. If I were a normal person, we could have skipped the past few paragraphs with one simple sentence. I am experiencing some culture shock. I turned on the radio a few days ago to check out the options, and laughed out loud to hear a song declaring, “I’m a god-fearin’, bibs wearin’, chugga-luggin’ farmer, goin’ five miles an hour on my john deere tractor…I’m an international harvest-urrrrrrrrrrrrr…” We set out to be international harvesters, all right, but that was not what I had in mind.
So the spinning background is not really knowing why we’re here. Being confident that we’ve been sent here, having great hints as to why (IHOP, my sisters, other God ordained connections) but not really knowing why. And in the spinning why, having the ground of all practicalities be gone. It’s a funny thing to declare that none of your needs are met, only to be reminded that they all are. Freak out moment: “I don’t have any baby stuff! I am almost 56 weeks pregnant, and I don’t have baby stuff!”
But the Lord says, “Do you have a baby yet?”
Or, “We don’t have a house! We have nowhere to live!” as I lay my head on a fluffy pillow, my children sleeping in a separate room.
“How much money do we (not) have?” as I unload the groceries in the fridge.
Jesus said, “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat, what you will drink, what you will wear…for the heathens seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”
So we hit a breaking point. I can’t count how many addresses I had driven by, rentals visited with an agent, or neighborhoods we’d searched. The last two had been the best. Right location, enough bedrooms, extra space in the basement, a (sort of) yard…definitely passable. They seemed to fit the descriptions the Lord had given us, interpreted loosely. And I didn’t like them at all. OJ was moving ahead with providing for us, getting ready to launch his business here in this area, and he desperately needed me to be happy with something so he could move forward. I told him, “I’ll do it. If this is what the Lord wants, for us to say yes to this home for a year, I’ll do it.” But then I went to the grocery store, depressed. I knew something was wrong when I found myself hoping that the lady smoking in front of the Hyvee might know of a good place. I walked through the aisles getting upset. “This is crazy!” I thought. “Where is my faith? The Lord is God, and here I am walking around like He doesn’t ‘reward those who seek Him’!” I came home pregnant, in more ways than one.
“OJ, God’s hand is not on this process, ours are! We are fasting tomorrow. I can’t fast, so you’ll have to. I’ll fast from craigslist and all searching for a house. I don’t want to find a place. I want God to!” OJ was happy to find my hormones, while raging, were raging toward biblical ends, and readily agreed.
The next day, we spent the day seeking the Lord, and turning away from our own efforts. Our quandary was God’s. We needed something much bigger and better than we had the money for, and we needed it right away. My sister’s phone rang in the afternoon. It was a couple from IHOP who were moving out of the country for a year to renew their visas, and had rented their home out in their absence. That morning, their renters had backed out on them, leaving them in the lurch right before their move out date. They were distraught, and were calling to see if she knew anyone who would like to buy their furniture. Lizzie gave me the number, and I made plans to meet them the next morning.
That night, the kids in bed, I sat and addressed with the Lord all the fear that had been plaguing the deal. Coming to peace, hearing His voice, the house became, along with all the other stuff, a non-issue. I asked if I should go to the appointment in the morning, heard yes, and went to bed. The next morning I walked into an enormous house a couple blocks away from my sister’s house and IHOP, and my eyes bugged out. It was two floors, which could be rented seperately. The family’s home was lovely, newly remodelled, with hardwood floors and a great kitchen. At the end of the hall was the sweetest pink room a little girl could ask for. The enormous backyard had a swing set, and an enclosed porch extended over it. The couple explained that they were hoping to leave some furniture items, like their giant family dining table, their desk, their couches, twin beds. All things that we don’t have. A big washer and dryer downstairs and another full kitchen downstairs…the list goes on. As for the rent, already reasonable, their renter didn’t leave until a few weeks after they did. So we only needed to pay for and rent the big upper floor (a complete home in itself) for the first month, giving us a chance to get started on the business. I remembered that my little sister had heard in prayer during one of the many “What is going on?” prayer sessions that our home would be “strategic and prepared for us.” I couldn’t have come up with a more perfect scenario than this place. It was everything we needed, and beyond. Dropped in our laps, with perfect, precise timing. And so…in a week we move into the substance of things hoped for, and have a few weeks to get ready for the birth of the little man, who will have everything he needs as he needs it. Thanks to all who have been praying for us. We hope to have you come stay in our home!