Writing this post has been on my mind for some time now; in fact I started a related post once, but didn't finish it because I really don't want to have it come across as pity-seeking, or to make anyone feel guilty. Rather, to share my struggle and subsequently what God has done in my life, and my family's life over the past several years. I write this for those who might be in a place (both literal and figurative) of discontent, and for myself, so I can remember this period in my life.
Last month marked the eighth anniversary of moving from the city to this small town. We had prayed for a small town, and God answered that prayer with a "Yes!" when my husband was called to pastor a church up here. I still remember the day we moved into the little white house on the corner. So many people from church were there to unload our moving truck, that everything was in the house in about 45 minutes. My whole family came up and pitched in to help us move. When the time came for them to drive back south, we said our goodbyes, they left, and I stood in the middle of the living room and cried tears of facing the unknown. An unknown town, unknown people, the unknown of living away from family. So many unknowns.
We knew that this is what God had called us to, and we were grateful for the many people who welcomed and befriended us (especially the ones who wanted to be our friends because of us, not just because we were the Pastor and his wife.) But still, those first couple of years were lonely for me. The winters were long, and I had two, then soon three young children cooped up in the house. It was also the first time I was a full time stay at home mom, so that could have contributed to my sense of loneliness. Not having adult conversation all day can take it's toll. ;)
I'm not sure if in the back of my mind, I've always thought of this assignment in this location as temporary, but in the past couple of years, I've had this thought many times, "Oh my goodness. I think we might be here for a very long time." You could read that thought with a couple different tones of voice. Maybe you read it with a sense of joy, but most of the time that thought is accompanied by a feeling of something resembling dread, shock, and denial; even though those words seems somewhat drastic.
There have been many times in the past couple of years when I've just wanted to leave, but I knew all along that leaving would not be the solution to my discontent. God keeps us here for good reason.
When my husband made the switch from being a pastor at a local church to chaplain at a nearby prison, we thought we'd have to move to another state for a while, and then perhaps come back when a position opened up at the prison he wanted to be at. Instead, God made it happen so he could go straight to the prison that is in our area. We marvel at how He worked out all of the details - down to where our house is located, making his commute just a bit shorter. There's no doubt about his call to pastoring a local church, no doubt about his call to chaplaincy, and no doubt about his call for us to be here.
So if we prayed for a small town, and we have seen God's hand in the details, then why have I struggled to feel at home here? I don't necessarily know the why, but I do know that in the past two years God has been doing a big work in my heart.
I've begun to accept that we'll be here for a while, with a little less dread at each realization. Our kids have made great friends, and for them, this is home. We've got a Godly church family who points us to Christ in all things. We have a group of homeschool friends with whom we gather weekly to study and play. (I always say that our co-op is my sanity that gives me perseverence in this homeschool thing.) Many things have come together that make living here, a place I have a love-hate relationship with, more of a love relationship.
I've also come to realize that through pain, God brings about tremendous growth and blessing.
Genesis 50:19-20 says, "But Joseph said to them, 'Do not fear, for am I in the place of God? As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.'"
Joseph's brothers, who had sold him into slavery were before him, afraid that he would punish them for their actions years before. Instead, Joseph saw God's hand in all of it, even though along the way he was enslaved, unrightfully accused, and imprisoned for years. Though I might wish certain things didn't have to happen the way they did, I am grateful because through trial has come deeper faith and greater contentment.
This photo and the race my kids participated in today is symbolic for me. Last winter, we found some second-hand cross country boots and skis and tried our hand cross country skiing. This is significant, because cross-country skiing is part of the culture here, and we hadn't done much with it until almost seven years in. We joked that since we'd been here for seven years now, it was about time we started participating in things. For me it symbolizes settling in; engaging in the traditions around us; acceptance.
God has us in this place, and I am learning to live here and now instead of waiting to live somewhere else. Though it's been hard, it's also been rich with blessing.
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