Sunday, March 25, 2007

Convicted

These past several days has been a bit nerve-wracking and stressful. Between getting our house ready to market (our green house has now officially been on MLS for four days now) and the fruitless search for employment in LA, we've gone through a myriad of emotions this week. A roller coaster ride I haven't been particularly fond of - and I usually love roller coasters.

Oh - and I was involved in a hit and run car accident earlier in the week that has somehow become more than I would have preferred it to have become [perhaps this incident will be a separate blog on a different day . . . ]

In the past three days, we've been displaced from our home. As our listing agent said, "You've moved out of your house and I've moved in!" Tonight we've just eaten our first meal in our house in the past three days. Seven private showings and two public open houses (with a total of close to fifty different PARTIES - not people - represented), we're so thankful for a quiet evening at home.

As I was driving to our local market to replace our wilting tulips (I've never had so many bunches of fresh cut flowers in my house before), I was sudden struck by a quiet voice with an unmistakeable message, "Trust and hope in me - not in men."

In this short ride to the market, I was so convicted of my weakness and faithlessness in God. Here I was stressing and wishing that our listing agent would market our house in a way that would generate numerous offers, that Air Boss's head hunters would throw dozens of career opportunities at him, that the police officer who responded to my 911 call after the hit-and-run accident would protect me from the other driver who now has my home address and contact info.

I've never felt so convicted of my own weak trust in God before - so clearly too. I realize so much more now that trusting God is something that needs to be refreshed and renewed every day and sometimes many times throughout the day . . . like the moments I'm sitting nervously waiting to hear the phone ring from our realtor about whether or not an anticipated offer on our house has come through.

Ah . . . these are the life lessons that age us so well.

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