Have you ever been in the middle of something, and suddenly, you just know you have to be somewhere else?
It used to be that when this happened, I ignored it until I finished what needed to be done or totally ignored it altogether. After all – when you grow up with goal oriented parents, you tend to be very goal directed – most of the time. The old adage was drilled (very early) into my brain: “First things first.” But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve figured out that arguing with that inner kick to my spirit self never results in good things. So – throwing the washrag in the sink and putting the spray cleaner back in it’s place, I looked at the dogs and said, “Let’s go.”
Pull things out of the back of the car – spread the moving blanket to absorb some of the thousands of dog hairs that will fall in a 5 minute trip – and off we go. Lots of things are happening. The road may be paved. The electric is getting set to go in. The final trees are being toppled to make room for our new home. The neighbors are waving to us when they see our car. It is starting to feel like home. Then again – strange as it may seem – it has, in smaller ways, felt like that from the beginning.
It was the same tonight. The dogs were running around playing in the final light of the day while I picked up pine cones for holiday decorations later this year. We took some pictures, chased some sticks, but my spirit was praying. Finally, I quit the busy work and just sat on hubby’s work trailer and looked around. There is lots of sand and wilderness yet. It doesn’t look anything like a homestead. The light is fading fast.
The sound of traffic is a little louder at this new place, but the trees do filter a lot of it, so it is not that much different than the state highway we lived close to in Perrysville. In fact, the actual physical distance and the size of the road is very much the same. As I sat there looking around and just soaking in the sounds and feel of this new land, I smiled. I love trying to figure out how God’s mind works. I’m never successful, but being the curious sort, I can’t help but continue to try. Here we are – hundreds of miles from where we started and yet – we feel at home. It is definitely a God thing. There is no other way to explain it.
I built a make shift altar on our trailer when we began this process earlier this summer. A brick from Loudonville. Two white stones from our new property. A piece of log from one of the first trees that hubby cut at our new property last year. A birdhouse church that was a spur-of-the-moment purchase a month ago. And tonight, I added a pinecone from a recently toppled pine. Touching them as I prayed was a literal touchstone for me. A connection to those that have come before me. A connection to those that have trusted God when it seemed like the craziest thing in the world (like standing in front of a mighty river and stepping into it as an army was bearing down up on them – crazy). A connection to the garden where it all started and God walked among them.
The house to be built is already very real to me and the hubby. Whether it is built this year, next year or 5 years from now, it exists. We both can see it, and with each new decision we make, it becomes a little more real. There are times when I actually can feel myself in parts of that unbuilt nding a miniscule atom (if atoms exist in the spiritual plane) of the mind of God.
Eventually, I bundled the dogs back into the car and head over to see the Grands and deliver pine cones. When I get back, I finish up the chore I had started earlier. I still have no idea why I was supposed to go to the new covenant land tonight. I just know I was supposed to be there. I know I was supposed to pray. I know that I met God there tonight.
And that? That was everything.
“Children, go where I send thee…” The old song will sing me to sleep tonight.
“But Yeshua, being full of The Spirit of Holiness, returned from the Jordan and The Spirit led him into the wilderness.” Luke 4:1