Moving, like many of life’s transitions, has a way of making you examine the bigger picture. In typical Sarah fashion, I’ve found myself anxious about details and worrying about how a situation will get resolved.
This move has taught me that God will provide. No detail is beyond His grasp. He’s sovereign in the big and the little, and I’m excited to tell you a handful of stories about it all.
Our lease was up late this summer, before grad school and work plans were finalized. We were uncertain how much longer we had in Lafayette, and so we went up and back about our sweet little apartment. Renew the lease? Don’t renew the lease? Find a month-to-month place? Renew the lease and sublease when we move?
Right answer = none of the above.
Instead, two of our most dear friends opened their home to us. (More on those wonderful friends later.)
It’s the end of July and we’ve visited nearly every liquor store in town, and we’re not even throwing a party. (I know, right?) Trunks stuffed to the brim with the sturdy boxes only liquor stores give away. One more trip to Target for packing tape and Sharpies . . . the whole process is absolutely exhausting.
Because we don’t know when we’ll land in our own place, it’s hard to decide what to keep with us and what to put in storage.
What will arrive first, sweater weather or a home? What will arrive first, boots-and-jacket weather or a house? And will I need those greeting cards? Will I need that kitchen item or this book?
Magically, everything we own fits in a 10×10 storage unit and our friends’ guest room.
And furthermore, guess what? We haven’t needed anything from that unit yet. Mr. S. and I have always had everything we’ve required. These friends, and their home . . . simply charming.
I pack and label, pack and label. We prepare to move our things from our Lafayette apartment to a Lafayette storage unit.
Mr. S. stares blankly as he tells me the bad news that July afternoon. There’s a mix-up in the truck reservation – that free-for-storage-tenants truck is no longer available.
Most of our things are packed, but we’re not where we want to be. Friends were lined up to help move on Saturday, but we can’t do it without a truck . . .
Anxiety, like funnel cloud, swirls in its strength. I call U-Haul and there’s one truck available tonight, not Saturday morning. But I place the reservation.
Mr. S. calls our friends. Hours later, we have a formidable crew moving like a machine. Our friends are loving with their strong muscles and elbow grease and I am grateful. Our storage unit is full and our apartment is empty.
Unsupportive professors puts it gently. We’ll leave it at that.
But Mr. S., through the web of academia, found advocates. Finally. Now, things are still messy and so we hesitate to breathe out just yet. But these people were rays of sunlight in an otherwise stormy situation. They’ve written emails, held meetings, made phone calls . . . genuinely gone out of their way to try to right a very wrong situation.
Mr. S. will begin work September 10. (That’s today.)
Though I’ve been cruising CraigsList and PadMapper and Zillow and all that jazz for awhile, we haven’t found the right place to rent yet. Doing it in person is hard and doing it remotely is next to impossible.
Kind friends have visited a few leads for us, and I’m grateful for them. We sent in an application for a steal-of-a-deal rental with character and came close to signing the lease. Tears swelled when I left the voicemail for the owner. Grad school is uncertain, I said, and we plans were too insecure for a binding lease.
And as I ended the call, I wondered where we would call home. Where would our stuff live?
Yet we find ourselves safely, perfectly, on the next leg of our couch-surfing journey.
Couch-surfing, these days, at the home of another dear, kind friend. We’re grateful that he’s opened his home to us until we find a place of our own. Mr. S. is in Kansas City now, and I return to Lafayette for one more week of work and friends, and then we’ll both be under this good friend’s roof.
These are just a few of the stories I can tell about provision. This move has taught me to look for the provision stories. Every day has one, two, a dozen. Look good and look hard and you’ll find them. You know, the happy coincidences or the brushes with luck . . . it’s bigger than that. It’s provision, every step of the way.
(Linking up with Miscellany Monday today.)