There is something sacred about longing for, praying for, and waiting for things in life. We live in a fast-paced world; always running from point A to point B. Always moving to the next event, without truly cherishing the current experience. I feel like I have spent most of my life learning the difficult lesson of patience. I never had a boyfriend (or even a date) until my senior year of college. I struggled with infertility for 13 years before becoming pregnant with Lydia. And now for almost 19 years, Jeremiah and I have desired to own land.
Jeremiah is a hunter. Technically I am too, even though I rarely describe myself in such words. Jeremiah is patient. He’s never hurried. He’s never anxious. Jeremiah is unconcerned by others opinion of him and he doesn’t even let his own emotions dictate his plans. He never worries about things beyond his current reality. It often frustrates me, especially when I feel like we should be “doing something’ or “changing something” in our lives. Yet this is also something that I greatly appreciate in him. He abides. He doesn’t even realize it – but he abides.
One of the gifts of being married to a man like this, is that when he says it’s ‘time to move ahead,” I can be completely confident to follow. I know that much thought, patience, wisdom and prayer have gone into his decisions. In July when he said, “I think we need to buy that property…” it didn’t surprise me when the sale was finalized in less than 30 days. It’s surreal and I truly can’t believe that we own land.
July also brought with it heartbreaking news of my dad’s diagnosis with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). We were dealt this devastating blow the same week we closed on this property. I know it’s not a coincidence that these two events happened in tandem. I’ve already found our little piece of woods to be quite therapeutic. There is something very comforting about seeing God’s creation, touching it with my fingers, and knowing that the very same God that sustains that mysterious mushroom, also sustains my father. The same God that ensures every tiny bird has a place of protection from the storm, also protects my dad in the midst of this storm.