Home Sweet Home

Ah, back from camp, and there is nothing I look forward to more than sleeping in my own bed.

But something was... hmmm... not right about our house. Not on the inside, but on the outside. When we returned after two and a half hours of driving, almost giddy about being "home sweet home", we were reminded that just before we left, our landlord had had the house painted.

And guess the color? (You'll never guess.) Think fiery golden sunset, orange sherbet with artificial coloring, or the neon-peach-colored shorts you wore in the 80's.

I tell myself, "Well, at least I don't have to look at it all day." But I do see it, every time I look out the window, and every time I come or go. And somehow, it's changed how I feel about the house.

I admit to you that I had fallen in love with the house. It suits our family so perfectly that there would be few changes to make, if I ever had the chance to make them. And I had dreamed of that possibility, that the landlord would come to us one day and say, "I don't want this house anymore. Please buy it from me, for cheap, to help me out!" I know there was no other way we could stay, otherwise.

And I know that the day was soon approaching when we would have to move, and that this house would become a memory for my children and me, and that we would need to trust God to lead us to our next home. But then again, didn't He lead us to this house, three years ago?

Now I'm ready to step out again, and I have to thank my landlord and the strange orange-colored paint he chose. If not for that, I would have never been prepared to leave. 

Sometimes, God gives us gifts in funny packages.