I placed the smooth stack of sheets used only for guests into the bottom of the sturdy cardboard box. Then I pulled one of the six extra quilts from the cabinet and stuffed it on top before closing the flaps and sealing it with a strip of packing tape. As I picked up the black Sharpie to mark the box, the tears plummeted off my cheeks, spotting the dry cardboard. All of a sudden my organized packing was halted by a wave of emotion. Here I stood in the middle of Abby’s room filling boxes with all our guest towels, sheets, and blankets and feeling overwhelmed by a simple decision – do I label these boxes with pink tape designating the contents to Abby’s room or with orange tape marking them for the living room?
Such a simple question. Yet the more I allowed myself to think through it, the more I felt anxiety grasp a hold of my body. My thoughts played a mental game of ping-pong going back and forth between marking the boxes pink since the contents were currently in Abby’s room or marking it orange to just be placed in the our new living room with other items without a definite room assignment.
Pink or orange? Orange or pink?
Then guilt kicks in. Why am I stressing over this silly question. I have guest towels to pack – what a blessing! – so who cares what room they end up in. But in those moments when time seems to stand still, my mind does not focus on the practical, but rather the unknown. I am packing up all my belongings and I have no idea of what my next home will even look like. I am trying to put together a puzzle without having any clue as to what it is supposed to look like.
I feel homeless.
I am not homeless, and I know that, but my heart feels homeless because of the unknown.
I am clinging to the fact that the very God who created the world, who hung the stars in space, and who gives me each and every breath I inhale, WILL provide another place for us to call home. While I have no clue how many bedrooms and bathrooms it will have, what the floor plan will look like, or whether we will buy or rent, I know that God will take care of us. As I slowly strip things off the wall, pack things into boxes, and turn this home back into just a house, I am being reminded that God is my refuge.
He is my home. He is my EVERYTHING. He is all I need. I do not need floor plans. I want them, but I do not need them. Instead, I NEED Christ. I need the hope that no matter where I live in this world it is not my home, I am just passing through on my way to an eternal home in the presence of God forever. I need Christ’s peace with God to live in the midst of chaos and stacks of boxes. I need His comfort that far surpasses any beauty a well decorated room can offer.
Fast forward two weeks…
For fourteen days I have struggled with all these emotions. Moment by moment I fought to cling to His sovereignty. Daily I had thanked Him for what He was doing even though I did not understand. There were times when my heart felt homeless but through the strength of Jesus Christ working in my life I clung to the truth that God is a sovereign God and would not leave us hanging. Sure enough, weeks before we thought we would get an answer, the phone rang and someone had a phone number for a house for rent. Within five days my heart went from feeling homeless to dreaming of new bedroom layouts.
This is just another monument of God’s gracious provision for our family to polish as we watch Him write our story. My desire for sharing this is that you, too, will polish this monument of God’s greatness with us. Let this story strengthen your faith as you wait for Him in your own life. Remember that when your heart feels homeless…HE IS YOUR HOME.