I really love Timehop. No, they're not paying me to endorse their app. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, it's the power of technology to daily show me "this day in history" - only it's MY day in history. This day a year, two years, even 6 years ago. The things I've posted. Pictures, posts and messages I've uploaded to some media outlet. I especially love seeing pictures of my baby boy and the way he's changing and growing. The videos of him as a toddler that remind me he was little not too long ago.
There are quotes, blogs, verses. Things I've posted and shared throughout the years that now serve as a reminder and testament of how God has been at work in my life. It's amazing to look back and see what He's brought me through, how He's pull it all together, the way He's Sovereignly known and had a plan all along. There are times when I can read something from a few years ago and now fully see how God has worked it all out.
It was 2 years ago this month, the end of February and I had packed up and moved out of my house. 166 Addie Way. This blog post showed up in my Timehop, reminding me of the house I said goodbye to 2 years ago. As I sat re-reading that post now three years past, I felt the smile growing on my face.
The thing I've learned about building a house is it's much like building a home. Every single board nailed into place, every piece of drywall hung, every fixture that must be selected, every decision that must be made...it's all hard work, and yet each piece and part affects the greater whole that is being constructed. It all plays a role in the process of building. It's stressful. Difficult. Frustrating. Complicated. Tiresome. Overwhelming. And rewarding. Because the finished product bears the marks of all the time invested and decisions made. The outcome was not my own handiwork, but in large part it was my vision.
I've been forced to face the reality that sometimes dreams change - just like your address. Sometimes life is lived in the hallways, where transition is inevitable and the next step remains unknown. I may not be unpacking here, but I've decided to settle in for awhile until He moves me.
It was a time filled with uncertainty, and yet now it's like I can finally see what He was doing - I can now realize the plan He was working out. I didn't know then that yet another house would be built. Another house that has now blossomed into a home. It has nothing to do with the floor plan or the paint we picked or the fixtures chosen. (They're all drastically different, by the way.) This time there are pictures hung on the walls - photos that reflect genuine smiles that tell stories of God's faithfulness. There are already marks that hold memories - like the hot wax that was spilled on the hardwood floors during our family Christmas gathering. Oh how we laughed. Or the chewed door frame in the garage from the once-little puppy that got bored one day while we were gone. This big oompa loompa is now a fixture not only in our home but in our family. A different address, yes, and a plan that God knew all along, even when He had me waiting in the hallway.
What I can now see is the handiwork of His vision - His plan being worked out for my good. The finished product of my life will bear the marks of the time He's invested in me, the decisions He's made of when to step in and carry me and when to let me walk on my own. In the past few years I've seen a lot unfold but looking back, I can now understand without doubt that God was always there working it out.
You can read the full post about that move out of 166 Addie Way by clicking on the link. What I also didn't know then was that I would leave a note behind for the new homeowners. I would tell them of the scriptures I had written on the 2x4's and the prayers I had prayed over that home, asking God to raise a family in that residence. That new homeowner would contact me. She would share my faith, she would become my friend. Our children would share birthday months. They would allow me to bring Elijah back to take pictures in front of the tree we planted in honor of his adoption. She would later give me one of the most precious gifts to honor the baby I lost. She understood that pain herself. Could I have known any of this? Certainly not. Could I have orchestrated it? I think you know the answer to that. Only God. Now I see.