Predictable and unpredictable flurries
It’s Friday evening, and we have spent the whole day preparing for two things appurtenant to significant life reroutings. One is a trip to our target area — not a simple trip, because we are having to bring our Cat and all of his worldly possessions and all of our own food for a three-day journey — but an important trip, because we are going to view some houses and see whether we might consider one as a prospective new home. The other significant undertaking was preparing our present home for viewing by a prospective buyer. We have not listed our home except with Zillow to sell ourselves, but this prospective buyer went to realtor Dawkins of Windermere Metro here in Tacoma, to represent her. Mr. Dawkins’s first name is too ridiculous even to print, because you would think I made it up.
My husband’s efforts and my own at staging our home and making the yard certainly trimmer than we would have done for ourselves, repaid me only with record-breaking sciatic pain and a bit of pique. When realtor Dawkins was 40 minutes late, I called him. Oh, he was so sorry, he completely forgot to call me. He had already written up an offer for our prospective buyer on another house. I hung up on him. I suppose we have to admire the guy’s moxie. He texted me back, asking me to call him.
As I said, this is Friday. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday each packed its own gut-whomping twist, each in its own sphere of life, and all extremely stressful. But God has sustained our verve, and the stresses have only served to propel our motivation. Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof, and this has been a rather sufficient week.
While awaiting the errant Dawkins party, I received a call from a friend in our target-area church who heard about our coming this weekend. Providentially, her family will be staying in a hotel close to ours (they live 50 miles from the church and decided just to take a getaway this time), and we will be able to get together for dinner in our room, since our Cat will have us under house arrest. God so often plants blessings in our challenges, and here was a blessing I scarcely deserved because of my very sinful mentation, not to mention my lapse into Berkeley vernacular, when stood up by realtor Dawkins, instead of blessing God by being content with his provision. That’s what blessings are of course: things we don’t deserve.
Tomorrow, as we drive east toward the West, I will memorize Question 107, the final question of the Westminster Shorter Catechism. Memorizing the Catechism has possibly been the most rewarding discipline I have ever undertaken. To have this succinct outline of systematic theology ready in my mind and on my tongue is a blessing indeed. If only I could retrieve the spirit infusing its perfectly selected words and cadence in a time of stress….
I have begun a self-directed program, Picture Packing 101. Concurrently, I am engaged in-another program, Frilly Cups and Other Nonessentials Packing 101B. So far I have done one half-day stint, and my body, from neck to arch, declared the program not a hit. But I will take it up in reduced sessions, because we may have a fairly long time before we have an imminent reason to pack. I am only packing these particular things at this point because the concept of staging your home for sale is that you should not display personal props that scream YOU DON’T LIVE HERE. But I fear that our home has other ways of conveying this fact to prospective buyers. Tough. They don’t.
Heedless of the wind and weather, in flurries, hail, and sun, we press on toward the mark. I admit that I do recall praying for some sort of sign to help us know that we were proceeding with things agreeable to God’s will; and now I am feeling just a touch sign-battered.