I’ve dreamed of owning a historic home with a front porch for as long as I can remember. At age 44 I had pretty much accepted a front porch was not in my future and was working on digging out any roots of bitterness and envy I might have had when God flipped my world on end, brought my family and me out of rural Idaho to “Almost Heaven” West Virginia, and gave me a front porch. The journey to my porch wasn’t direct, rather it came by way of a 25-foot travel trailer and a whole lot of faith.
I wouldn’t say my husband and I are the most adventurous people. We’re pretty content to have a nice, quiet routine consisting of morning coffee, a little work, dinner at home, and restful weekends with family. We might throw in an impromptu date night, live musical, or weekend away to keep things from being too sedentary, but we aren’t typically known to throw caution to the wind and fly by the seat of our pants taking great big chances. If you think that makes us sound a bit like Hobbits you aren’t too far off.
Our first big step of faith came when I quit my job. There wasn’t really a plan to replace my income, more like eliminate the need for it. We decided that selling our house and shop on five acres was where we should start, so we began making some long overdue home improvements to get it ready to be put on the market.
Our next exercise in trust came when my husband began to feel he had advanced as far as he could at work and decided to cast his net a little further out in the water. We prayed for God’s leading as I updated his resume, posted it online, and he began applying for jobs–even those across the country. I think we were both thinking this was simply a fishing expedition and not much would come from it. **Spoiler Alert** It wasn’t and much did.
Amid interviews and home improvements, we learned that my unborn grandson was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect and would require open-heart surgery soon after his birth. We began pleading with God for this little boy’s life and making plans with his parents for what his birth might look like, all while trying to figure out if this curveball was a sign that God did not intend for us to move after all. **Spoiler Alert** It wasn’t.
Shortly after my grandson was born, my husband accepted a great position with a company that offered more opportunities to advance, both personally and financially. The kicker? It was 2000 miles away from everything–my children, my friends, my church. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was, in fact, strong enough to leave our two oldest daughters and a medically fragile grandson in Idaho. By the grace of God, I was, but it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
The old hymn, “He Leadeth Me” could have been my theme song for 2019. Most of the time I had no idea what we were doing or where we were going. I just knew that God was in control and it was my job to take the steps of faith–even if it meant living in an RV for an undetermined amount of time.
Much like the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years before they could enter the promised land, I, along with my husband, 20-year-old daughter, 16-year-old son, 12-year-old daughter, a 70-pound black lab, and cat, lived for 4 months (which seemed like 40 years) in a new-to-us recreational vehicle. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as it might sound. I could have done with better internet and cell phone coverage, stronger AC, and not lumping dirty clothes once a week to the laundromat–first world problems, for sure! But we survived and aren’t too worse for the wear–us or the travel trailer!
When it finally came time for us to start looking for a house, my husband and I each had a list of hopes and dreams, along with a few hills-to-die on. As you can guess, my hill was a porch. It didn’t have to be big. It didn’t have to wrap around. All I asked was room for a porch swing and maybe some rockers. We looked at a few great options and even considered making an offer on some, but until I scrolled past that yellow house on Zillow, none of them cried out “you’re home!” like this one. So here I am, now 45 and guess what? My porch is big and it wraps around. My rockers are comfy and I hope to have a porch swing up soon. Yes, the house is old, it creaks a little, and some work needs to be done to bring her back to her glory days, but I can relate to that so she and I are in this thing together.
The year since our move has been as crazy and unpredictable as the year leading up to it, but I trust God has a good plan for whatever lies ahead. I haven’t quite figured out my place in this new world yet. 2020 has put a damper on reaching out, making new friends, and experiencing new environments, but joy abounds in hope and I can call this place home. There is room on my porch, so pull up a rocker and get comfy; I can’t wait to chat with you!
XOXO,
Doe