The wrestle with God in my kitchen.

I was alone in the house as the rain poured onto the skylight above.  I was envious of the droplets of rain nourishing the ground outside my home. I watched as the leaves danced in the wind , as I stood still near the kitchen window. Hands gripping the counter tops, my knuckles became a shade of white. When is my time to be refreshed and dance , Lord? 

Now daughter. Dance with me.

But I am too heavy. I carry so much weight.

Set it down.

My arms raised above my head I began to sway to the sound of the rain and wind. If he cared enough to give us rain to feed the soil on this land, he cares much more for me.

I was taken back about 15 years ago to my ballet days. Leaps and twirls began to come out of me as I laughed until I cried. I was dancing again. I had forgotten how good it felt to let my body express itself freely. Not just in my writing but with my movements.

Lay down before me.

With my face on the cold tile floor he spoke to me Psalm 21:

How the King rejoices in your strength, O LORD!

He shouts with joy because of your victory .

For you have given him his hearts desire, you have held nothing back that he requested.


The fact is that he hasn’t held back the dream of living in an old Farm house. I prayed for years to live where people have lived for hundreds of years before. He GAVE me my hearts desire. This desire became a burning flame in my spirit on this day, our family picture day.

This old house was near our very first house as a married couple. I used to pass by it and drool a bit. Imagine my life living there. I chose this spot for our pictures because I hoped to one day own a beauty like this. I saw just potential and greatness in this home.

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It was this house that gave me the fever to do what I wanted. Not necessarily what he wanted for our family. But in my selfish motives , I pressed on. I would have a farm house, even if it meant my life would be drastically changed.

Choices are everything. They directly reflect the well being of our lives right now. They are a bump in the road, or a smooth sail to tomorrow. I cannot go back and change my past. What I can do is thank Him for loving me enough to give me the one thing I begged him for.

In all my moaning and groaning of the pain of losing the farm house, he is there grieving along side me. He is faithful to love his children , in such a way that when we ask for things, he gives them to us. Rather than asking for what WE want in this life, I’m learning to ask him to instill new hearts desires that line up with his plans for me. 

He cares about what I love, because he designed me that way. I’m grateful for a Father that graciously let me experience life on a small farm. I’m grateful he allowed me the pleasure of removing chicken poop off of my front porch, and chasing our favorite chicken out of my SUV.

But what I am more grateful for is his never ending love for exactly where I am.

I’m broken. I’m grieving a child I lost. I’m grieving a life that could have been. I’m grieving a homebirth that never happened, and never will.

But I am rejoicing in his GRACE for my mistakes. His deep love for who I am in him. Without him I am incomplete.

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