Me: That is a cute little house.
Prodigal: It is not the size of the house that matters.
This is from Patricia Mora
I had been crying for days. Nothing made sense. We had obeyed God’s commands. I had quit my job and stayed home-through financial trials and frustration. After nearly five years of difficulties, my husband had a decent job. We could finally afford to buy this little house we had been renting–but the owner had just sold it out from under us. “Why, Lord?”
It wasn’t perfect. It was tiny, with a barely decent sized “master” bedroom and two other bedrooms best described as miniature. If I could have my “druthers”–which I knew I could not– I would buy a bigger house, adding a two car garage, a pantry in the kitchen and one more room for our small buisness.
Why another trial? What have we done? Is there some sin in our lives? We could think of none.
The owner of this tiny house had promised to wait for the paperwork to go through. We knew low income government programs took an inordinate amount of time, but this one had dragged on and on. As the months passed, I had updated the information we were receiving from the agency to reassure the owner that buying this house was just a few more weeks away. He had never indicated he was growing tired of waiting. The phone call had come out of nowhere, knocking the breath right out of me.
Even though this little house was far less than we needed, I really loved it. I liked the floor plan and the large closets. I loved the “big” kitchen-the only normal-sized room in the house. Most of all, I loved the neighborhood. It was surrounded by tall pines and Oregon grape undergrowth. Huge ferns grew wild and blooming rhododendrons blazed scarlet, purple, and white. Here the silence and majesty of God’s creation brought peace in the midst of distress.
Our little rental was hidden, tucked way in the forest, in a tract of homes aptly named “Wilderness Rim,” some 1200 feet above sea level. From my windows, I watched birds and butterflies play in the sun. Dusk and dawn brought deer to the edge of the cul-de-sac, as chipmunks chirped their high-pitched cries.
How can I leave this neighborhood where God has given us such peace? Oh, why Lord? Why did you let this tiny haven be sold out from under us?
We had to find a new place to live. The government program was useless now. We would simply have to rent–again. Brokenhearted, confused with God’s unfathomable pain, we drove down the mountain to seek a new rental house. Hoping to stay in the “Rim,” we entered the only real estate office in town.
Disappointed, we learned there were few rentals in the “Rim” at any time. None, now. There was, however, a single house for sale, just listed that morning. The out-of-town owner would sell VA. To our surprise, my veteran husband could qualify for this house, using a “no down/no closing” loan–if we were interested in buying. Did we want to see the house?
We did. Driving back up to the Rim, we pulled into the familiar subdivision to view the only house for sale. With pleasure, we discovered this house had exactly the same floor plan as our rental–with a few exceptions: it had a pantry in the kitchen, a two-car garage, and a bonus room large enough for our business. Everything I’d wanted added to our rental. Best of all, this house had nearly the same view as the little one I loved. That’s because it was right next door.
God was not angry with us. He only wanted to bless us with something better–an unexpected blessing.
Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart
Psalm 37:4
Jennifer Van Allen
www.theprodigalpig.com
www.faithincounseling.org
