Monday, June 21, 2010


All my life, I've wanted to live in a white farmy house

with a cool, old barn.

I wanted acreage. Just enough for the kids to roam free and for my mind to wander.

Years ticked by and I wanted it more. We moved to a sketchy apartment in DC and I spent weekends tearing out inspiration and snapping it into a binder.

The move back to Indiana was blessing enough and we settled into a pretty, white house on a brick street - a corner lot. It was more than enough.

Our family grew and we pined for a long lane and bedrooms we could fill and the opportunity to feed barn cats in our bathrobes.

Then we were swept up into a whirlwind and when we landed, we were here. It is one of the moments in our life where God directed our path with neon arrows and took our hands to pull our blind faith along.

This house was and is a gift.

We knew for sure that God lavished upon us something that was rooted deeply in our hearts.

We have labored here and we have loved it.

We nudged what was faded toward new life.

I became a farmgirl here, and Cory a real, true worker guy.

We washed sippy cups here, deciphered baby-talk here, watched toddlers turn into kids.

Then we watched in wonder as those kids learned to explore with freedom.

Our hearts grew here.

We were finally home.

Back in February, before Silas, before job loss one and job loss two, I curled up beneath the blankets one night and whispered a truth I knew in my heart, but feared giving life to. "I keep thinking we might be selling our house..." My words hung in the air for a moment, then Cory reached out and grabbed them.

"I keep thinking the same thing."

My heart dropped and tiny tears formed and I wished to high heaven that I hadn't even said it, that it wasn't the truth.

But God has a clever way of making Himself clear. Even more, He has a way of making the unthinkable exiting.

Our house is officially on the market. We are simplifying, not out of necessity, but out of obedience, which is probably the most necessary thing I can imagine.

We believe that we will land somewhere near, but we are learning not to conjure up big ideas of our own. We believe that we will land in town, in a home where our kids will bunk together and where we will watch a new kind of joy and contentment bloom before our very eyes.

God has given us so many of the desires of our hearts, and now He's giving us a new one - one so new that we didn't even know it was in there in the first place.

I have moments of worry and sadness, but here is something I know for sure: There is a purpose. There are purposes. I don't know all of them, but I do know that this will give Cory the freedom to choose his next career step without factoring in the salary. And I know that this will give us additional wiggle room in our finances and in our time, both of which God has plans for. But mostly, this will give us front-row seats as we walk away from the very thing we always wanted and walk towards a life that is so much better.

Yours 'Til Niagara Falls,
Flower Patch Towngirl*

*I will not actually be changing my name. I am only exercising my intermittent flair for the dramatic. Farmgirl is, after all, a condition of the heart.