Security in the Uncomfortable

On June 15, 2007, we moved to Mt. Pleasant and into our apartment. 

At the time, our apartment seemed huge! 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, 1000 sq ft. The place felt like a mansion. There were three of us Forbes then and the space was "temporary.” Now there are five Forbes. The master bedroom became a storage area. (Looking back, I should wonder why it was ok to risk my life and the life of our unborn child as i precariously would make my way to and from the multiple middle-of-the-night bathroom trips;  stepping over shoes and boxes of clothes the boys had outgrown, while Heath soundly slept.)  The walls began to close in. If I had a nickel for every time I said, "Please stop jumping. Respect Ms. Linda downstairs, please!” 

Almost 5 years later we have bought (just about) the perfect house for us. It is twice the size, has extra rooms, work space for everyone... A new mansion.

We have begged the Lord for this place. I mean, on my face, lose my mind, screaming at the wrong people kind of petition. (Sorry telemarketer lady, but I'm SLEEPING IN A STORAGE UNIT!)  And here it is. The perfect place. So why am I sad? 

I didn't realize how many expectations I wrapped up in this. I thought there would be cartwheels at closing, high fives when the apartment keys were turned in and angels singing as each box is unpacked.... Nope. I have just felt sad... (and overwhelmed and tired, but that's my life... and that's a whole other show.) Even as I write this, I can't really figure out why this has been so difficult. 

Is it the memories? Maybe. Is it learning a new part of the Charleston area? Could be. Is it my neighbors? Not sure. All I know is that even in the chaos of the apartment, I was comfortable. I could find the popcorn at my Publix. The beach was a bike ride away. And it was exactly 7 minutes to the church building. Not so much anymore. I nearly cried at our new super Bi-Lo, the boys complained about the itchy sand on their feet as we made the 20 minute drive home from the beach AND WHAT'S WITH THE DON HOLT BRIDGE! How many accidents can there be?! I can't get anywhere in 7 minutes! UNCOMFORTABLE. 

Isn't this what I'm called to? A life on the edge, just waiting for Jesus to push me off? A life of insecurity is a constant reminder of the security in a Father that is FOR ME. FOR me. For ME. He is right beside me in all of this, luring me inviting me into insecurity "because when I am weak, He is strong." 

I will continue to have a hard time. I will probably always feel like a fish out of water, keeping my eyes open to the interruptions that remind me He, the Author of all of this, is here. And secure. And purposeful. 

- jill