I’d love to personally invite each of you over on this Friday afternoon to sit with me by the fire, but perhaps I can offer you a little glimpse into the Farmhouse today…
But before I do, I can’t help but offer you a bit of encouragement…
We officially moved in on December 23rd and finished up on the 24th. We sat down to a Christmas Eve feast of fried chicken, corn dogs, and potato logs from the gas station (because that was the only place open), but we lit the candles.
We were surrounded by boxes and moving day clutter, but we gazed at the flickering candles and counted our blessings.
It was the craziest of Christmases and we were nigh unto exhausted, but I told the children that it would be a Christmas they would never forget.
We unpacked through bleary eyes over the next few weeks and my daughter kept asking if we would wake up and find it was all a dream.
I had to agree with her, the whole year had been such a blur. I posted a little 9×9 square on Instagram summing up the top 9 moments of 2016. I have to say it was hard to narrow it down…
January witnessed a flood and a house remodel, February found us the Farmland, March hit us with MRSA surgery, April sold our house, May moved us in to the Middle House, June gave us family vacations, July celebrated a birthday and then three days later brought us our baby boy, August dealt me postpartum heart failure, September started our homeschool journey, October graced me with healing, November rushed in the final farmhouse projects and a birthday, and December ushered in Christmas, another birthday, and THE MOVE.
It wears me out just thinking about it all. Some years are like that, I guess. But it’s times like these when we find out just how deep our well of faith really is. For months and years we treasure up the word of God and try to add water to the well of our belief. We hope it’s enough, but we never really know until the drought comes.
And come it does.
So we cry a little and then find the courage to climb the mountain.
We draw upon the living water we’ve stored up and find that we not only survive, but we thrive.
Because our water runs deep and Christ’s grace is with us through it all.
So whatever you do today, please don’t think that my life is perfect or that I have it all together, because I don’t. No one does — except Jesus Christ. And that’s why I choose to partner with Him in the creation of my life.
Some of my dreams have come true, and others have died. I suppose it’s the same for you. I’ve been tempted so many times to ask why, not “why does this have to happen to me,” but more like, “what is the purpose Thou has for me in this trial? What am I supposed to learn?”
I’ve pondered much on this question over the past few years, and then last night, I read a passage that touched me deeply. I’d like to share it with you in hopes it will help you as well:
“God does not erase our losses, those empty places in our lives, but he does something almost more miraculous. He fills the loss with a sign of his presence.” -Christie Purifoy, Roots & Sky
And so we must wait, expectantly yet patiently, for the Lord to manifest Himself with a glorious sign of His presence in the broken dreams and empty places.
It’s in the empty wooden cavern of the violin where the music sings. And it’s in the empty spaces of our hearts where God manifests Himself to us and breathes new life into our souls.