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Where to next Lord?

The tent stakes of our life have been pulled up and packed with all our earthly possessions, waiting on God with an answer to our question,

 Where to next Lord?

 When God asked Abraham to pull up the tent stakes of his family, Abraham asked the same question, and by faith, left without knowing, yet confident that God would show him along the way.

It was by faith that Abraham obeyed when God called him to leave home… He went without knowing where he was going. And even when he reached the land God promised him, he lived there by faith—for he was like a foreigner, living in tents. Hebrews 11:8-9

I read once by Oswald Chambers that we should:

Let the attitude of life be a continual “going out” in dependence upon God and your life will have a charm about it satisfactory to Jesus. You have to learn to “go out” of convictions, out of experiences, until so far as your faith is concerned, there is nothing between you and God.

Looking back over the last seven years, God has had David and I on this Abraham journey, calling us out three times over to
leave without knowing
the where to which we were going.

Life has been a storybook adventure for us.
We follow a map without coordinates to guide us.
Yet the voice of our God says “go” and we trust Him for direction.

Echoing from the church pews of my childhood, this young girl sings the words to which by faith and dependence on God we walk:

WHERE HE LEADS ME
By Ernest W. Blandy

 Where He leads me I will follow.
Where He leads me I will follow.
Where He leads me I will follow.
I’ll go with Him, with Him,
All the way.

God has been abundantly faithful to David and me these twenty-five years together, highlighting the last seven years and three moves most noteworthy.

We haven’t lacked.
Our cup overflows.
Our cup is brimming of memories and grandchildren.

But sadly, moving is especially difficult on grandchildren, as young ones don’t understand the “going out” when God calls.

Children are tied to their memories as much as we grownups.

Leaving our country home of two acres was probably the most painful as our grown children bid good-by to their childhood home, and grandchildren walked away from all that room for parties, to run, play, get dirty and tractor rides with Papa.

This move was unexpected and tore the heartstrings of many to say the least.

You ask the questions “why”, but trust that wherever God is sending you, somebody needs the God companion you’re traveling with.

For three long summer months that year, David lived separately from me while I packed up and sold the house, as his allergies to our surroundings forced him away.

The emptiness of life without your soulmate was almost more than we could handle, adding the heavy burden to shoulder a wait for closure with one house and new beginnings with another.

But God is never late for an appointment even while we stare at the clock, tapping our foot in our impatience of His seemingly untimeliness.

Late that summer God welcomes us through the front door to our new address, handing the keys to an unsuspecting place called home.

Then you bloom again wherever you are planted.

Though, not the perfect place to pitch our tent according to our adult children, yet God said “go” to honoring and serving your ailing parents one street over from where we now live.
We all hold tight and carry our dreams wherever we go.

But trust that God’s dreams for us are bigger and greater than we could ever imagine.

And yes, bloom wherever you’re planted until then.

You sprout by figuring out the main things as grandparents; parks and fishing ponds, bubbles and breakfast, bike rides and snack shacks.

You bloom when you celebrate God’s gifts in family, in birthdays, in new births, in the “no reasons”, making it work wherever you’re planted, because that’s how garden’s grow.

You bloom when
HOME IS WHEREVER I’M WITH YOU.
Three years later, your parents no longer live one street over from yours.
Three years later God says “It’s time to go”.
Three years later we ask, “Where to next Lord?

The Abraham journey continues following the map without coordinates.

“We trust you Lord with our lives.”

Use us.
Mold us.
Make us.
Send us wherever you will.

We trust the path we were walking.

We hold the lamp to our feet that illuminates that “one step at a time” of our journey.

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.
Psalm 119:105

Three weeks of walking when we pitch our tent again, next to neighbors God already knows will need us.
Funny that God always knows.
Yet our peace tends to wrestle with the opponent of unanswered questions.

Home looks different once again.
Not the home of our dreams.
But dreams are what you make them.
You discover the silver linings and pots of gold hiding behind the curtain of contentment.

Contentment in our continual satisfaction of being together, wherever home happens to be today.

Page after page of our story keeps changing in narrative.

The face of home has changed.

The faces of our grandchildren have changed in their growing up.

But gardens grow whenever you choose to plant new memories, new traditions and still reap from the “oldies but goldies.”

There are new country roads to discover peddling our fleet of bicycles that have grown from two bikes to twelve, with a place for every child no matter the age.

This is one tradition that writes the best stories of our grand-parenting history together, especially when Papa and Gaga take their spills.

There are those baseball tournaments where every child and adult must take their turn at bat. No couch potatoes in this family garden.

A new snack shack and park to ride our bikes during those open doors of cousin camp.

Yes, our cup overflows, brimming of memories and grandchildren.

Through the years we see the changes and rejoice as this next generation thrives, sprouts, blooms and flourishes in the garden they’ve been planted in.

So hard to believe that three years have gone by so quickly.

Our storybook adventure has added a few more exciting chapters to our family novel.

Three years and God is now calling us “out” again.

The tent stakes have been pulled up and all our possessions have found their temporary home in storage.

We ask the question again, “Where to next Lord?”

In two and a half weeks our Abraham journey continues unless God answers the question before we start venturing out.

It was by faith that Abraham obeyed when God called him to leave home… He went without knowing where he was going. And even when he reached the land God promised him, he lived there by faith—for he was like a foreigner, living in tents. Hebrews 11:8-9

In “going out” God wants more than anything from his children their deep dependence on Him as Father.

These Abraham journeys over the last seven years have caused David and I to lean into God more, trust in Him and take Him at every word, bringing forth such growth in our garden.

Adventures don’t come without risk though.

Those last looks back, good-byes and hugs of fond farewells run the risk of heartache you try to protect yourself from, but almost unavoidable after sharing life with those who call you neighbor.

Sitting outside together most evenings, the border of your life enlarges from the investment of being neighborly.

You discover in conversation how small the world is to find one neighbor works in the same department as you did years ago.

You appreciate the simple gesture of those secret painted rocks hidden for your grandchildren placed by the neighbor across the street.

You’ll miss those conversations one neighbor was always willing to share with you, putting her walk around the block on pause to do so.

How do you say good-by to the pool people who give you the combination code to access their backyard waterpark?

You know that next door neighbor whose doorbell your grandchildren want to ring whenever that red truck is parked in the driveway, to see if they want to come out and play.

That aunt and uncle our grandchildren are crazy about, whose house they ran back and forth to from ours.  Those neighbors who you also call family, and landlord.

Good-by with these neighbors finds a WARNING sign posted in both yards; enter at your own risk.

The Town of Wanatah has rolled out the red carpet for us out-of-towners these last three years.
Wanatah and its country charm could be the 21^st century of Mayberry.

This small town is famous for its Wanatah Wave.
Whether on foot, seated in your lawn chair or driving behind the wheel, everybody waves to the other while passing by.

They don’t know you. You certainly don’t know them.  No introductions needed though as it’s the love of this community to welcome you with their Wanatah Wave.

In a few short weeks David and I bid good-by to the Wanatah corn who has proven to be “knee-high” each year in July.
We will shut down the weekly Friday night block parties of cousin camp and give you back your peaceful Saturday mornings to sleep in.

Be praying for the neighbors unaware of our bicycle club invasion coming to their town real soon.

One final Wanatah Wave as this town bids us good-by.
David and I have no idea where our next address will be.

We wonder about the house God has already picked out for us, confidently trust for our heart’s desire.

The welcome committee is ready for us.
We’ve planned.
We’ve prepared.
We’ve prayed.

We open up our map without coordinates to guide us.
We listen for God’s voice who says “go” and we trust Him for direction.

The music is queued and we sing the words to which by faith and dependence on God we walk:

Where He leads me I will follow.
I’ll go with Him, with Him,
All the way.

Where to next Lord?

We ask the questions “why”, but trust that wherever God is sending us, somebody might need the God companion we’re traveling with.

We keep a heavenly perspective as one Facebook post once quoted because:

Our lives this side of eternity are meant to be lived in “tents.”
So travel lightly and enjoy the ride.
You’re not home yet.