Well, we have been in Kalispell for 1 week, as of today. Looking around at the wonder of this countryside, and being saturated with the vibe and ethos of the local culture, I can't help but keep saying to myself, “Why didn't you do this sooner??”
The answer to that must be “It's all in the Lord's timing.” It's best for me to just leave it at that.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night (after I've escorted one or two of the children to the bathroom), I feel compelled to focus my attention on the truth of God's word, lest I dive into a tailspin of “what if's”. Like, “What if I can't produce an income?”, or “What if we can't find the land/living arrangements we so desire?”, and a hundred other such gremlins. It has become an almost nightly ritual of prayer and resisting an aggressive spirit of worry and doubt. But the Spirit of the Lord comes to my rescue, in the recesses of my mind, and I'm able to go back to sleep, as I dwell on this:
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.” (Psalm 23:1-3a)
We have been intensely sharing time and space with our friends, the Tams (not their real names) since they arrived at the home they purchased from the Nez family, a couple of days after we showed up there. The last four days have made us look like a couple pioneer families homesteading together. I mean, no cell service, no landline phone, no paved driveway, no traffic noise, one bathroom for 13 people... For Pete's sake, even our internet service has been down for the last 48 hours! By today's standards, most would consider this positively medieval. For us and the Tams? It's the whole reason we moved here. This is how deep relationships are truly formed and solidified. We talk together. We cook together. We explore together. The kids spend so much time on the land and the trampoline that we wonder if they'll ever break for meals (they always do :-). It feels more like Acts 2:44 than anything I've experienced in a long time. I don't know how much longer we'll be imposing on the Tams by “crashing their pad” and camping on their lawn. (I do know they would lovingly deny that we are an imposition, I'm sure.) Winter is coming, and by All Saints Day the ground will have frozen and the snow will be abundant, so I've been told. So my humanity screams “get into a house of your own in the next 60 days, or you'll freeze or go crazy” and “Get a job or you'll starve” or “Get a 4x4 or you'll crash on the black ice!” See what I mean? Just different forms of the “what if's”. They're sanity-killers. I mean, I either live like God will make good on His promises to care for me, or I won't. I do believe that He loves me, and I'm choosing to prayerfully live one day at a time, and to not swallow concern beyond today. Jesus ordered me not to. It matters not that we are currently “houseless”: we are being well-cared-for, and we are a grateful family.
So, this Sunday will mark the first time we've had to go church-hunting in about 18 years. It's a weird feeling. I have the freedom to stay or go. I don't have to attend because I'm on the staff, as I have been for the last 15 years. We're praying that we find a fellowship that both encourages and admonishes, equally so. Praying for a families we can minister to and be ministered by... praying for new and Christ-honoring friendships for our children. If you've read this far, please take a moment and pray for us, that the process is a short one.
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