moving – adjective – \ˈmüv\-\iŋ
: changing place or position
: having a strong emotional effect : causing feelings of sadness or sympathy
: relating to the activity or process of moving to a different place to live or work
We are moving.
For the past several months, my husband and I have been considering whether we should sell our house and move. We’ve lived here together with the boys for more than a year and a half. They lived here without me for many years before that. This is their home with lots of memories and experiences. But together, we decided to find our home, a place with many more memories and experiences to come.
So, we made the decision, we told the boys, and we started looking at houses. Before we could even put our own house on the market, though, we sold it. The day after we received the offer for ours, we put an offer on a house we want to buy. After two days of negotiating we came to an agreement. Both houses will be inspected; both buyers have to finalize financing. Purging, packing, and purchasing will happen before we are comfortably situated again.
But as it stands, in about four weeks from now—just six weeks after making the decision—we will be moving to our new home.
God doesn’t normally move that way in my life. He doesn’t always clear a path and make things easy. Not that it’s all been easy—just fast. But maybe Jesus knew I was waffling over the decision. Maybe He knew that if the process of moving was long and drawn out I might second guess and back down. Maybe He’s moving in our lives in ways we don’t even recognize—maybe the house is just a small part of all He is accomplishing for us, for the people selling their house, for the people buying ours.
We are all connected now, moved by the invisible hand of God, joined by the circumstances of leaving and seeking home.
Even while God has moved in our lives in favorable ways, I am moved by the tragedy and difficulty that continues in Gaza, in northern Iraq, in West Africa, in the Williams family, in the families of dear friends. This week marks one year since my step-dad died, and in many ways, we have moved so little in our grief for him.
Life doesn’t stop even for a minute as we mourn and question and ponder and suffer; it keeps moving through the bad as well as the good. When houses sell quickly, we rejoice. When life ends quickly, we despair. In either case, we stop at our own peril. Life keeps moving.
We’ve started collecting boxes in the garage, and our to-do list is growing. This is what we prayed for, I remind myself as the stress of the next few weeks begins to settle in my shoulders.
We are moving. We are moved.
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