I am not a gypsy. However, I have begun to feel uncomfortably like one lately. After many years in the same city, bringing up my children in the same big farmhouse near family and friends, we moved to a brand new town where we didn’t know a soul. That was a year and a half ago, and it was a big change for all of us. We moved to a home near the downtown core where everything was close. Too close. After eleven months we all agreed that we needed to get back out in the country, so we moved twenty minutes north, up to the gateway to cottage country where we are surrounded by nothing but rocks, water and trees.
A month later a great job opportunity came up for my husband. He applied for and got the position – thirty minutes south of the town we had been living in. That 50-minute commute is a lot, especially where we live, which is (normally) snow country. So now, four months after our last move, we are planning another one. For those of you keeping track, that is three moves in a year and a half. And yet another new school for my (hopefully as resilient as everyone keeps telling me they are) kids.
Recently, our pastor spoke about Esther, and how God had placed her in the palace “for such a time as this.” The lesson in Esther is that God does care where we live, as our neighbourhoods become our sphere of influence. He is sovereign, He has a plan, and He has a place He wants us to be. So, as we face another challenging time of transition in our lives, we will trust. And cling to the following promise: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9, NIV)
And, although I feel compelled to tell everyone that, no, we are not in a witness protection program, or the military (although either of those reasons, or even the gypsy thing, might actually sound more plausible than the truth) I will not worry about trying to explain our actions, I will just trust. And I will start packing. Fortunately, in a case of amazing (if accidental) foresight, we still have a number of our possessions in boxes from the last time around, which is very convenient. And we will also be able to save time by not having to put up the pictures that are still sitting on the floor, leaning up against the wall below the spots I had envisioned they would one day be displayed.
Funny how those things that normally hang over your head (read: grate on your nerves) can actually turn out, in seasons of life like the one we are currently in, to be the small mercies that help you get through the day.
Press on, my friends. Press on,