Devastated. When I first started this blog just a few posts ago, I mentioned that we were praying over an opportunity that might clear up some things financially for us. In reality, the logistics (and some financial considerations) were keeping me up at night.
As you might have guessed, it was a job prospect for my husband. It would have taken us back home – or close to it – but it didn’t pay relocation. I was hopeful to be able to stay at home for at least a few more months, while my youngest daughter is still a teeny baby, because we’d save on housing costs by staying with Brian’s parents.
But, yeah. No relocation. We have a house to sell that we just bought last year, so we were very likely to need money for closing. And then where would moving expenses come from? We’d be living with Brian’s parents – whom I love and are very good in-laws, but their house would be crowded with six people and two dogs. Where would we store our furniture? And they haven’t had babies in their house for decades!! They don’t remember to speak in hushed tones and forgo using the ice maker during nap time because that’s just what you do. They have to blare their TV to hear it, so I could only imagine what our bedtime ritual was going to be like: grandparents downstairs blaring the TV and shouting over it, while I try to convince my hyper preschooler to settle in for the night for the five hundredth time. And oh, yeah, their plumbing is terrible. The bathtub doesn’t drain and you end up standing in a dirty, soapy, filled bathtub if your shower is too long. Toilets flush only when you pray fervently beforehand.
I can definitely see why God’s answer to our prayers – and that of our friends and extended family – was “no”. This was a terrible idea.
But I gotta say, I shed some tears. I still feel anxious and impatient over it, as much as I try not to. I was looking forward to extra time with my baby. With my preschooler. I wanted to be home with them so bad, I don’t think I truly dreamed God didn’t want us doing this. I dread the winters where Brian is on travel and I have to shovel or snowblow our driveway and sidewalks while managing an infant. How will I get groceries and carry them in when it’s -30F? And our commute is too far for my liking – our work and even our church is 30 minutes away. Attending two services on Sunday puts us in the car for 2 hrs – that plus the worship service means kiddos have to do a lot of sitting still on Sundays. We feel it by bedtime.
I thought I saw an answer. An out. A door. And I prayed and prayed that this door was going to open – at the same time I was praying to be a better steward of what God has given us. To manage our finances better. To get us out of debt.
I see it now: my prayers were conflicting; God had to tell me “no” on something. I’m devastated that I won’t be staying home anytime in the near future and I’m brokenhearted that we will continue to raise our girls so far from their family. I don’t like it and I’m even a bit panicked and overwhelmed. But I get it. I respect it.
How do you console yourself when God says “no” to something you wanted so bad, you could taste it?