I Like to Move It, Move It

Fourteen years ago today I boarded a plane in Seattle, and 4 1/2 hours later arrived in Atlanta. My dad greeted me at the gate, and when I got to him he gave me a big hug and said, “Welcome home.”

My life in the past 14 years seems to have revolved around moving. Since that day, I have moved 12 times. Yes, 12 times. (And no one in my family is in the military.) Three of those 12 have been in the past 11 months, and in another two weeks we’ll be moving again. You would assume by this point that it would be easy, even down to a science. But it’s not. Moving is one of the biggest stresses in life. Multiply it by a dozen, and it’s no wonder I sometimes feel like I’m going crazy.

I hope no one reads into this the wrong way, but I haven’t felt settled since I left “home,” 14 years ago this very day. I have tried to stick my roots here, in this other side of the country, but each time I feel like it’s finally happening, I am uprooted again. It’s disconcerting. It’s unsettling. And quite frankly, it’s a royal pain you-know-where. (You’ll forgive me if my attitude is a bit more Martha than Mary at this particular moment. “So much to do! So little time! Why are you sitting at His feet when there’s packing to do?!”)

And yes, I’m so sick of talking about moving. I am very ready for a new topic of conversation.

When we moved here to North Carolina, I was eager for God to orchestrate our circumstances so we could really settle in. I believed God would sell our house in Georgia immediately so we could buy something here and hunker in for the long haul. But 11 months later, that hasn’t happened. And in our immediate future is our fourth move in a year. I’m by no means saying we have any plans to leave this place, please don’t misconstrue my heart. I just wonder what on earth God is up to.

I realize asking “why?” is an exercise in futility. Would the “why” really make a difference in my obedience to follow where He leads? Even if it means moving four times? No. He alone knows the end from the beginning. My job, my role, is to participate and follow regardless, going along for the ride.

I’m trying desperately to “elevate my ideas” and practice what I preach -- thinking about things that are worthwhile and worthy of praise. I’m trying to be transformed by the renewing of my mind. It’s always easier said than done, of course. So I turn to my Sword, my only offensive weapon in this battle. And I pull out these daggers:

“I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out --

plans to take care of you, not to abandon you,

plans to give you the future you hope for.”

- Jeremiah 29:11 (The Message)

“Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow

a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at

your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God.”

-Psalm 84:3

“Blessed are those who dwell in

your house, ever singing your praise!”

- Psalm 84:4

“As they were going along the road, someone said to him,

‘I will follow you wherever you go.’ And Jesus said to him,

‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but

the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

- Luke 9:57-58

We are in good company with One who understands.

I write these verses on my spiral-bound notecards and carry them with me everywhere I go in my sheath. And when I feel overwhelmed, riddled with anxiety, frustrated and defeated, I pull them out to fight, and remind myself that He is for me, not against me.

I wonder, too, if the whole point is to not feel settled. My real home is not on this earth anyway. Perhaps this is a reminder to keep focused on the bigger picture, the Kingdom.

“Give your entire attention to what God is doing

right now, and don’t get worked up about what may

or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal

with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”

- Matthew 6:34 (MSG)

I could keep asking why, but I think God is telling me that I couldn’t understand it even if I were told. His reasoning and logic is on a level my humanity wasn’t made to comprehend. That’s where this thing called faith comes in.

“‘I don’t think the way you think. The way you work isn’t

the way I work.’ God’s decree. ‘For as the sky soars high

above the earth, so the way I work surpasses the way you

work, and the way I think is beyond the way you think.’”

- Isaiah 55:8-9 (MSG)

So I pack and I trust. And I trust and I pack. All the while I’m acutely aware that my attitude still needs work, my faith needs to be increased, and my character needs to be sandpapered. I need to watch my tongue and I need to guard my thoughts. But I celebrate this anniversary reflecting on all God has provided and done over these past 14 years, and blindly trust that the next 14 will be even better.

Even if we have to move 12 more times.

“‘The latter glory of this house will be greater

than the former,’ says the Lord of hosts, ‘and in this

place I will give peace,’ declares the Lord of hosts.”

- Haggai 2:9

Really, I'm Not That Hungry

When I was growing up, my parents were quite the fans of the buffet. Particularly, we’d go quite often to The Royal Fork (oh yes, that was really the name) (and was actually preceded by the name King’s Table, natch). Sunday dinners, extended family get-togethers, vacations would all end up somehow at The Royal Fork. My family would load up on everything from jello salad to turkey and stuffing to pasta. The thing that was always odd to me was that the selection was so wide and varied. I mean, I liked most of the types of food that were there, but not all at one time. I love me some pot roast and mashed potatoes, but not with an egg roll appetizer. When you lump it all together into one single-file line, it’s more than a tad overwhelming. And unappetizing.

Like, gag me with The Royal Spoon.

I feel like have quite a full plate right now (I’ve shifted into the figurative plate now, not literal, FYI). And I feel like my life is sort of like The Royal Fork. After such a fun summer, everything has sort of hit at once and my plate is overflowing. The gravy is running into the salad and my creamed corn is running off the plate. And all I can think is “ew.” And, “can’t I put each thing on it’s own plate and eat it on its own slowly throughout the week?”

But that’s not how things work at a buffet.

At a buffet, you get it all at once. For one low price, you pile it up and wolf it down, and the only break is that if you want seconds you get to pick a fresh, clean plate.

I’m not really sure why our lives (meaning my and Greg’s [is that grammatically correct?]) have gone from seven-course to smorgasbord. It seems that God has placed us in His own personal Royal Fork. Like every week we load up on everything He wants to serve us...and then it takes a week to digest it all. I’m not sure if that’s what He meant by “having life more abundant” or not. Sometimes I just want to push the plate back, say “thanks but no thanks, I’m really not all that hungry today.” But how can you say no at the King’s Table?

I’m trying to be flexible, and to train my “spiritual stomach” to handle all the offerings, but I have to admit it’s been a smidge difficult. I don’t want as much as is on my plate. And I’m trying really, really hard to focus on the Truth instead of how I feel (full) - and understand that sometimes God is simply saying:

“And at this very moment, God deeply desires to lead you from 

trouble and to spread your table with your favorite food.”

(Job 36:16)

So I accept the clean plate, again and again, week after week, and belly up to the line for my second helping at The King’s Table.

“Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see --Blessed are you who run to him.”

(Psalm 34:8)

What a Long Strange Week It's Been

Whew.

I am poop-ed.

I’m so pooped that I’ve moved beyond not knowing what day of the week it is into the world of barely being aware of my own name. The past seven days have zipped past in an unrecognizable whirlwind. A lot of good things happened this week, and I just realized today that I’m so worn out that I haven’t even really celebrated any of them. I know I’ll get to it eventually, but all I have the energy for right now is to acknowledge them:

1. We moved into a great house.

2. Someone sent over 10 members of their staff to help us move. Thank. You. Sweet. Jesus.

3. Some ladies from church came over and brought yummy food. Like cookies, and cinnamon rolls, and chicken salad, and ham. A whole ham!

4. On Saturday, a stranger from south of Atlanta called Greg and said they wanted to drive up that same day to buy his car. That we’ve been trying to sell since November. As Rachel Zoe would say, “Shut the front door!” So they did drive up. And we did sell it. And the car is gone. And the front door is closed. Thank. You. Sweet. Jesus.

5. Jaana started first grade. She’s just three so this makes her a prodigy. Wait, what? She’s really six? I do not recall that happening, thank you very little.

6. I lost four pounds this week. Thank. You. Sweet. JESUS! And I did not get a chance to work out even once. (And I ate cookies and cinnamon rolls and chicken salad and ham. A whole ham!) (Okay, not really.) I told Greg we should move all the time, because it’s such good calorie burning. He said, “We do.”

I think there’s more, but I really can’t remember.

An another totally unrelated note, college football season officially starts in our house on Sat, Sept 4. It looks like I’m going to the UGA home opener with Greg, and I’m actually really excited to go even though it’s a noon game, will be 200 degrees and I have no idea what to wear. Nonetheless, the thing I’m most excited about is sitting down for 3-4 hours straight and not having to do a single thing but sit. And talk to my sis-in-law. And if I remember to find the binoculars, I will be entertained by the best people-watching there is available.

Thank. You. Sweet. Jesus.

And go Dawgs.

Chicken in a Biscuit

It’s 8:43 on Thursday night and I’m sitting at my computer writing. My house is in total and complete chaos. There are a million things to pack, clean and load. I really need to take a shower (like, really). But I can’t bring myself to do any of it (like, really). Not because I’m procrastinating (or am I?), or because I’m over it (or am I?), but because I need an outlet. Today was supposed one of my running days, and with all the moving I didn’t get a chance to go. So I have all this pent up energy (although I’m totally exhausted) and I feel kind of restless (even though I could pass out). So it’s either go for a run in the dark and risk running into bears...or write.

I choose the latter.

(And I’ll stop with the parenthetical commentary now.)

(You’re welcome.)

I’m not really sure what I have to say. However, whenever I have this feeling of a deep need to write, I just sit down and ramble a bit and then it just comes out in the process...that whatever-it-is-that-I-need-to-get thing. Aren’t all three of you so excited you get to follow this non-sensical process? I know I certainly would be.

In case you’re unaware, we are moving this weekend. I don’t want to beat to death the topic of us moving, because it’s such a dead horse. Yes, we’re moving for the third time in 10 months. Yes, it’s a pain to pack. Yes, I wish our house in Atlanta was sold so we could settle in and I could paint the kids’ rooms and put some serious nail holes in the walls. But whatever. We’re moving. Big whoop.

Buuuuut, lately I’ve been pondering this moving thing a lot. Recently a friend casually joked that if it were her having to move again like us, that she would just cry. I laughed and told her that I do feel like that sometimes. But as I was driving home later, I realized that I really don’t feel that way.

And then I thought, is it odd that I don’t?

We uprooted our family to move to the mountains 10 months ago. Then we had a baby, and three months later moved again. Then five months later we are moving again. And I really and truly am pretty okay with it. In the process of packing, yes I admit it’s a huge pain and inconvenience. Am I totally unaffected by the transition? No. Are we the only ones who have ever had to go through something like this? Absolutely not. Will I always talk to myself in questions? Maybe. But it hasn’t felt like the Really Big Deal that I think it should be, and so I sometimes pretend that it is a Really Big Deal.

And I think that’s weird that I do that.

Whenever I’m feeling isolated or lonely regarding something that’s happening in life, I try to go to the Bible to find real-life people who went through something similar. I figure if I know how God worked in their situation, then I’ll have more assurance God will come through in mine.

When we were going through our own personal time of wandering through the wilderness, I read a lot about the Israelites and God’s deliverance. I read how He parted the seas to make a way for them. And it gave me faith that God would part a sea and bring us to our Promised Land.

And He did.

I’ve experienced my fair share of loss, so I read a lot in the book of Job about God’s sovereignty. How God gives and takes away, but how His name should be blessed anyway.

And I bless it.

When I feel betrayed, unappreciated and on the outskirts, I read a lot in Psalms and identify with how David pours his heart out to God, tattles on those who hurt him and places his faith and trust in the Lord anyway.

And I do.

I guess the message I’m supposed to understand today is this: I really do trust God. I just trust Him. However He decides to work, however it looks, however it comes together...I trust Him. We could live in a camper parked on the front lawn of the church, and I’d be fine. Sometimes I think He puts me in certain situations and circumstances solely so I can really know, deep down, for a fact where I stand on the whole faith thing. And I end up surprising myself most of the time. At the onset of the circumstance, I sort of brace myself for the downward spiral of despair...but then it doesn’t come. Now, there are definitely other times I don’t expect it at all and I’m completely blindsided. But at the end of the day, so far in my life, I still net out at the same conclusion:

I so trust my God.

And each time, it feels really good to know that I still do.

So I need to stop pretending that things are Really Big Deals to me when they aren’t. And instead, I need to say with confidence, “No big deal, Jesus is on it.”

My favorite band in college was Black Happy. I wrote them about 10 years after I graduated because I suddenly realized they were Christians and had been all along. All their lyrics pointed to Jesus Christ. One of the band members wrote me back, so appreciative I recognized this even years later, because they felt conflicted about their music and if they were making enough of a stand for their faith.

While I didn’t get it at the time, I do now. And I think these lyrics sum up this Randomness of a Post fabulously:

Sabbath may not come...I don’t care

Sun it may not shine...Oh I still don’t care

Seas they may not flow...Don’t fear it

Means as much to me as a chicken in a biscuit.

(copyright 1994, “Chicken in a Biscuit,” Black Happy)

In other words, none of it means a hill of beans compared to Jesus.

So we pack. We clean. We load. We move.

Whatever.

Chicken in a biscuit.