Ugh

I haven't really mentioned it here, preferring instead the brevity of Twitter, but about three weeks ago, we got an offer on our old house.

It was the best offer we've gotten to date -- but still about $100K less than our asking price. (And that pretty much explains the last 3.5 years in a nutshell.) The days immediately following the offer were miserable for me. I stressed and worried and whined at God. I hounded Corey to come up with a counter-offer. I stewed in my own pot of yuck and tried my best to keep the bile of fear at bay.

It didn't work.

Eventually, I crawled out from under the shadows thanks to a healthy amount of prayer, a hard bit of introspection and a long talk with Corey (which naturally took place at 11:00 PM; sorry babe). I realized the whole issue is easy to ignore for me on a day-to-day basis, because we don't live anywhere near our old home anymore, and I can chose to not look at the realities of our situation. But when it looms large in front of me, it triggers all kinds of fear -- fear of the unknown, fear of constant conflict with Corey, fear of not being in control.

During our late-night conversation, I threw the whole burden on Corey and said, "Here. I will not fret about this anymore. I will not nag you about this anymore. Do what seems right to you. I will back you up. I trust you to handle it. I trust God to handle it. There is nothing I can control about the situation anyway, so I am stepping out of the equation."

Eventually, Corey got around to figuring out our financial situation (read: figuring out just how much money we can afford to lose) and wrote a counter-offer.

Today, we heard back from the potential buyers. They are "choosing not to counter at this time."

Yuck.

I am frustrated with the whole thing. I just want it to be over. I am tired of paying a mortgage on a house that isn't worth what we owe. I am annoyed that those same dollars could be going to feed families in Kenya or going to support families trying to raise money to adopt. It seems like such a waste to pour dollars into an empty house.

Why the wait, God? I don't get it. It seems pointless to me.

But then I am reminded of the truth I leaned in my Esther Bible study last week. Beth Moore said something revolutionary in relation to Isaiah 40:31. Maybe you know the verse? (If you attended a Christian school, I can guarantee you know the verse, because 97% of Christian schools name their sports teams the Eagles after this passage.)

Yet those who wait for the LORD will gain new strength;
they will mount up with wings as eagles,
they will run and not get tired,
they will walk and not become weary.

I believe the truth of that verse, theoretically. But bless my heart, I rarely live it.

Waiting doesn't renew my strength; it exhausts me. I grow more weary and more defeated with each passing day. I am tempted to say with the Psalmist, "How long, O Lord? How long?"

But Beth's revelation was this: We are not told to wait on an event or a thing. That is when we become weary. Instead, we are told to wait on the Lord. He has a purpose in the wait. He is meeting us day-by-day to refine our spirits, show us His glory, reveal His love.

Don't wait on the thing, beloved. Wait on God.

Mind you, I don't feel this truth right now. I feel weary to the point of breaking. I feel thin and stretched and bent.

But I have lived long enough to know the difference between the heart's fickle emotions and the soul's rock-solid truth.

I will wait for the house to sell. Of this, I have no choice.

But I will choose in the waiting to wait on my God. I wait expectantly for his fresh wind to fill my wings.

House or not, I'm ready to soar.