We became homeowners for the second time in February of 2020. (A year and three months ago from the day I’m writing this post.) In August of 2017, almost four years ago in PA, we sold the first house we had ever owned. We had searched for the right house for the better part of two years. Our search stopped when it got too close to Basye’s birth, and started back up again when we got our heads ever so slightly above water.

Back then we had two babies well under the age of two- 16 months apart, to be exact. Looking for the right house at that point in time meant all bullets on the list pointed to helping me find sanity.

• a fenced in yard: so the babies could play outside, but not run off into the street
• in a neighborhood with sidewalks so I could buckle the babies into our double stroller and go for walks
• a place to store the stroller so it was out of the way
• bedrooms that were not on ground level (I hate sleeping in a bedroom with windows on ground level)
• an area for guests to stay
• an area for our desks/office space
• a garage so I could put the babies in (and out!) of their carseats without getting soaked in the rain or snow

Not only did we find the right house with all the the check boxes clicked, but God surprised us with blessings in that house we didn’t even know we needed. Our list was longer than I shared above, yet God blessed us with more. He supplied for me all things that kept me sane.

You might think I’m exaggerating, but I can assure you I speak the truth. Those years were full of worries, and fear gripped me at every turn. Looking back, the amount of weight I carried over each baby’s unique issues felt insurmountable. Not only did they have regular baby needs, but they each had their own set of particular complications. It was a heavy few years with a lot of darkness.

When I think about the house God gave us during that time, it was His gift to help me feel safe and sane. For instance, Jase has always been our Curious George (ironically someone gifted Chuck a Curious George stuffie when I was pregnant with Jase, and I think it was a prophetic act) so having a large room for him to play safely in was of upmost importance. Again, I speak the truth with no exaggeration. The child had a large, empty room with only a mattress and stuffies on the floor, with both a lock on his closet and main door so he could not escape. He played wildly to his heart’s content in there, and I was at peace knowing he couldn’t get into anything dangerous.

It’s one of the many mysterious dichotomies of being One with Jesus Christ. We can be both struggling blind to find our way in utter darkness, but experience the deepest peace and brightest light of His presence at the exact same time. We can look back at a season of grief, but see explosions of hope interwoven at every turn.

It’s just a glimpse of His glory. I don’t know who needs to hear this little memory today, but I hope it’s you. There are explosions of hope all around you. Jesus is right there.