I love fall. I love
pumpkins and pumpkin spice and cooler weather and football and all my tv shows
starting back up and apple picking and Halloween and preschooling A actually
going to preschool and...all the important things in life happen in fall.
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But this time last year…gah…last year. I’ve been avoiding writing this post, one
because of what was going on this time last year and do I really want to dredge
all that up and two because how has it already been a year and three I haven’t
really completely done what I set out to do.
And in a blink, three hundred and sixty five, no make that seventy two,
three hundred and seventy two days have gone by.
Since I was told I had melanoma.
And I’ve been doing too good of a job loving all the
wonderful things of this coming season and ignoring all the difficult things
that the past season taught me.
Husband R and I have been saving to buy a new couch, to
replace our seven year old crusty ones with a nice shiny new leather sectional. And Thursday of last week, we finally had
enough. Cash dollars. I proudly marched
into the store ready to shove the do you need financing back into the face of
the unsuspecting sales person and whip out my dolla’ bills y’all…except it was
really a plastic debit card, whatever, same thing. Preschooling A was tagging along…more like
jumping on every couch, chair, and loveseat she could. At one point I found her under the sheets, under
the sheets people, of the store model bed.
I liken furniture shopping with preschooling A to chugging tobasco sauce
while an angry gorilla chases you. It’s terrifying.
Having survived preschooling A losing her gum on the
furniture store floor and shaking off all the jeering eyes watching me as I
crawled around looking for it, I went home to tell husband R of my fantastic
negotiating skills and the gloriousness our new couch would bring.
And Husband R greeted me with “Why the heck has our mortgage
gone up $475 a month?!?”
Come again?
Mistake. It has to be a mistake.
And after two hours on the phone with some lovely lady who
got her degree at I don’t care about you or your shiny new couch university we
figured out it was a mistake. Made by
the mortgage company last September, and one which we unfortunately now have to
pay for. The details are more than confusing
and don’t matter much at this point.
What matters is me having to send my poor husband to cancel
our order and return our couch. Two hours after buying it. Because those lovely pennies we worked so hard
to save, now have to go to keeping a roof over our heads.
And it's gut wrenching.
But here’s the irony.
If the mistake had been caught last year, in September, when I had just
had surgery and the hospital bills were piling up and I had just been diagnosed
with stage 3 cancer, if the mortgage company would have told us then about
their mistake and about how much money we owed them…we may not have survived. Emotionally. Probably not financially.
So one year later, almost to the date, we’re hit with this
financial hardship. And it’s enough to
turn my love of fall into severe dislike. But, we have the money saved to get
us out of this. Okay, so yes, we really would rather have a new couch.
What we would rather have is not always what God intends.
And remember when I
prayed for God to show me my tomatoes? I
asked him to reveal the things he has for me that are outside of my box, the
things that I’m missing…well, I’m pretty sure he wants me to learn how to move
forward with less.
Last year I grappled with facing less time, learning how to
move forward with death being real.
This year I have less money.
And I’ll learn how to move forward with that too.
And here’s the humor. God does have a sense of humor. We tend to pay attention more when things are
that way.
God faithfully
provided health care and food and people to get us through my sickness and
surgery. And then He miraculously made it clear I never had cancer. And as time went on and we celebrated the
good times and enjoyed our summer and when we started to forget. Forget what it
feels like to desperately depend on him for our very next minutes. When that happened...
He reminded us.
And it’s funny because it shouldn’t take a $475/mo hit to my
checking account for me to remember He’ll provide. It shouldn’t take me feeling helpless for me
to remember He’s my only hope.
And it shouldn’t take my security being threatened for me to
remember He’s my Savior.
So I’m making a list. A literal, ink on paper list. Of all the things, I can remember Him ever doing
for me, saving me from, providing me with.
I don’t want to forget anymore.
And I really want to get back to enjoying the fall, the way
He intends for me to, with just a little less stuff and a lot more of Him.
Will you make a list with me? Something you can look at and remind yourself
of when things get off track? I’d love
to hear some them! Please comment below,
it really does make me smile!
