“The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” – Exodus 33:14
In my last blog I wrote of restlessness and change, and since then, I have found out, that once again, we are moving. I have always told my husband that if he had the opportunity to work in Atlanta, then he wouldn’t even have to ask me; I was there, because I want to be a Georgia Peach. I love to read, some of my favorite authors write about the South, it is filled with history and charm, and people from there seem so darn friendly. Never mind that I have never been to Atlanta, except to change planes in the airport (what a harrowing experience), or to drive through the state of Georgia on the way to Florida a time or two. Over the years, my husband has told me time and time again, when we’ve had this fictional, moving to Atlanta conversation , that I can’t possible become a Georgia Peach, because I am a Canadian, and I don’t understand what I am talking about. There is a culture difference between people from the South and people from the North, that I don’t understand, apparently. People (from the North) keep telling me that, whenever I tell them that we are moving. I do think I have a vague idea about it, and I am sure I will come to understand more as time goes on, because now that fictional conversation has become real. Somehow I knew it in my bones; I knew I would live in Atlanta someday, and it will happen as soon as we tie up the loose ends here in Minnesota and just go.
This is a different move for our family, because we won’t be taking our children with us, and why would we? They are grown now and have begun lives of their own. They have jobs and friends that tie them to this community and this state, and we are the ones severing the cords and pulling away. It seems backwards to me when I think of it. Aren’t children the ones who are supposed to move away from home, not parents? When I wrote about change in my last blog post, a friend of mine suggested my angst might be caused by God calling me closer to Him. I have to confess, I had an idea that my husband was contemplating a change of some kind that might take us away from our children and that created some unrest and anxiety for me.
Will they be okay without us? Have we prepared them adequately to survive without us in the same state? These are the questions that are haunting me as I prepare in other ways for our move; as I have painters and floor guys come and give me estimates for our house to prepare to sell it, and as I study in preparation for out of state licensing exams, so I can work outside of the state of Minnesota. With so many things to do it is hard for me to focus on one thing at a time. I should be studying or sleeping, and I am blogging. Yesterday when I washed my face, instead of a facial toner, I used nail polish remover on my face. It was quite uncomfortable. I don’t recommend it.
As I think of all of these things and prepare for our move, I pray and I remember a visit with my sister. She was visiting me and we went shopping together in the Mall of America. My sister loves jewelry, and when she can, she enjoys buying pieces of jewelry to splurge and to pamper herself when she is on vacation, or on a trip away from home. She had bought herself a pendant for a necklace, made of blue glass, shaped like a heart. It was rather large and pretty, but totally unlike anything I would ever wear, because it had my sister’s name written all over it. She and I are quite different when it comes to our tastes, as most sisters are, I imagine. At the end of our weekend visit together, my sister told me, in no uncertain terms, that she felt very strongly that she was to leave the pendant with me. It was mine, she said. Over the course of the weekend, I had shared with her some of the angst of my motherhood, and she told me that this pendant represented my mothers’ heart, and it was for me. Now , you have to understand. My sister LOVES jewelry, and when she bought this pendant for herself, she really wanted it. When she gave it to me, she really thought I should have it; it was a God thing. My sister is not a mother; and for her to think of this was a little uncanny to say the least. I strung a ribbon through the pendant and hung it on my bedroom wall. When I see it, I think of my sister and her tender heart as I pray for my kids.
I know in my Mothers’ Heart, as I pray for my kids, that moving is the right thing for our family, and He will care for each one of us. I am reminded of the story of Hannah praying for God’s blessing, because she was barren, and couldn’t have a child. Finally, God blessed her and she gave birth to Samuel, and then right after Samuel was weaned, she turned around and brought him to the temple so that he could be trained by the priest Eli to serve God. It was quite a sacrifice for a mother to give. While Samuel was away from his mom at the temple, he learned to listen to the still, small voice of God, and he became a mighty voice for Him. This story has been ringing in my heart, and maybe, God has something to say to my kids without me buzzing around getting in their business. I have to let go of them and cut the apron strings. That’s pretty hard for me because I like control, and I will miss them in my daily happenings. So…maybe my friend was right. Perhaps God can use this restlessness to draw all of us closer to Him.
“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us.” Ephesians 3:20