This morning as I was walking with my walking buddy, we discussed how when we did not have two nickels to rub together, as they say, when young and starting out on our own, that someone helped us. Today, we have not forgotten the person or their kindness, not to mention the expense. Paying forward now is what we do and hopefully the trend continues.
It was nice to think of that this morning and remember the rough periods but also that my Christian walk and my prayer life developed in those times.
I was in my early twenties and living at home with my 
parents still, which was fine then. Our telephone rang, I answered and it was a lady we know stating her rental house was available. Great, I’ll tell my bother and sister-in-law was my thought. As I walked up to the finished attic that served as my living room and bedroom, I kept hearing, ‘It’s for you.’ Each time, it was if I could turn around and see somebody standing and saying ‘It’s for you.’ A little spooky. Those words would not leave.
Okay, fine! I called the lady back and inquired about the small, shotgun-type house and, of course, her husband had the time to show it to me right then. So, I went to look at it. I picked it apart in my mind of what it needed, did not have and built my case to show the Lord it was not for me. No doubt, He knew I would try to prove Him wrong.
The biggest things were that there were no appliances (stove, refrigerator, washer/dryer). Nope, not for me. The old, ugly disgusting carpet was beyond my comprehension of dealing with. Nope, nasty.
It was that same week, my brother and sister-in-law moved to a new place, not this house. I come home and the garage door was open and my mother, a clean freak, was cleaning a stove and refrigerator to store away until needed. Of course, my mouth dropped and as told her what had just happened. It’s for me.
Everything lined up that I needed to start housekeeping.
As for the carpet, my aging neighbor had new carpet put in that week, too, and had the old brought down to our garage for me. Not knowing what was happening but because years before, I told her I like it. The garage filled up with everything I needed with no effort, but cleaning and moving.
This little house was mine to rent for a small amount and the owners paid for paint, new locks, etc., and another room of carpet because they knew it was for me and I would take care of it. It’s for me! I loved that little house and lived there seven years. I grew up spiritually in that house and learned to trust the Lord and my faith flourished.
Listen for His Voice. Trust the Lord and He will do exceedingly, abundantly all things. Remember what He has done for you. What an Awesome God we have.
So much to say and to interject but I keep getting interrupted. Seriously! What gives? Am I not important? Are my comments not of importance? Sometimes I feel invisible and not seen or heard.
listen to me as I am not finished talking. I just move on and forget my information or story, who cares, is my attitude. Maybe I am boring but still she doesn’t know me truly but this has been my life. Nobody really knows me. Perhaps this is why I like to write.
Most importantly… He knows my voice and He knows your voice.
Today, I had read about a pastor that committed suicide and the focus was on the anti-depressant drugs. How sad. Then my mind went to my son who was prescribed anti-depressant medication this past month. He is doing great so I have faith that this was a good turnaround for him but then reading this post, fear immediately went into action.
Oh how I miss the Tonka truck days and dirt tracked in the house, a house full of their friends and feeling like a short-order cook. I have no control. I have no say.
Just Pondering... 