Halloween On a Saturday...Again...

Eleven years ago today, I moved into my very own house. It was quite an accomplishment for me to buy a house after being on my own for twelve years; not only financially and emotionally, but also spiritually as well. Halloween is my spiritual birthday; I gave my heart to Jesus on October 31, 1994. It is a very special day to me. I have never been the same.

I was going to just re-post the blog I wrote 10 years ago about my first night living in my own home, but I wanted to add a little explanation. After all we've been through during 2020, in this year of the pandemic, it's even more special to me that Halloween landed on a Saturday again, just like the first day I lived here. 

It's like, once again, God went out of His way to remind me that I am His and He is always with me.

God has taken care of me my whole life, but it's been especially evident since I went through a divorce and started to make my own way in life alone. He has never let me down, and He never will. 

Something I didn't mention in the original post is that I had owned the house for about 10 days, but my best friend and her husband and sons couldn't help me move until after the Heaven or Hell drama at our church. I know this was all in God's plan and timing. We had to delay until the drama was over and we had a weekend.

Which just happened to be Halloween.

So,without further ado, here is the blog I wrote in 2010 about that night.

Home Sweet Home

Did I ever mention that I bought a house? I did. I am a homeowner. After renting an apartment for twelve years, eleven of them in the same apartment, it was time.  It was quite a journey, from being newly divorced and working two jobs to make ends meet in 1997 to buying a house in October 2009.  God really did a work there.  Not only did He have to get me through some really rough stuff financially, especially in those early days, He had to convince me that I was capable of whatever He put in my heart to do--with His help of course. Anyone who knows me very well knows that I have not exactly exhibited an abundance of self-confidence.  That said, just know that my buying a house is a BIG DEAL.

God had been dealing with me for months before I even started house-hunting.  He urged me to start packing up Jeff's room; a good place to start since I obviously didn't use Jeff's stuff. Actually, Jeff didn't even use his stuff, since he moved to Virginia without the two six-foot bookshelves full of books (yes, he has that many books) and a closet full of clothes. That in itself is a story for another blog.  So, I began carting books to storage, even before I was officially looking for a house.

After months of searching, I found the right house and closed on the deal.  I became a homeowner.  Now if I could just stop shaking long enough to move.  Why was I shaking?  Oh, I forgot to mention:  I was terrified to move. I was so scared of living in a house.  My little second-floor apartment had been home to me for eleven years, and it was my comfort zone. I shifted into high gear: I started really packing and moving. A really good friend and her husband and sons helped me all day on a Saturday, and I was in. I had wall to wall boxes, but I was moved in.

That night after everyone was gone, I collapsed on the couch to rest and watch a little TV before bed.  I hadn't been afraid yet.  Hmm, that was strange.  It had been in the back of my mind all day, the fact that everyone would leave and I would be there all alone in a strange house.  As I sat there on the couch mulling this over, I heard the sounds of a group of children next door, having a lot of fun at their Halloween party. Ah, how nice.  It made it seem like a friendly, safe neighborhood. 

Wait a minute...Halloween?  Was the date really October 31?  At that precise moment, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  My first night to stay in my new house was October 31.  Unbelievable.  In case you haven't read some of my earlier blogs, this just happens to be my spiritual birthday.  I was radically saved on October 31, 1994, all alone in my living room.  It was a very dramatic "about face" for me.  I truly turned 180 degrees, from running away from God and all that He stood for to running into His loving arms and repenting.  I have never been the same.

As it began to sink in that God had purposely arranged for my first night in my house to be that particular day, peace enveloped me.  It occurred to me that I was not afraid. I was sitting on my couch, just in awe of Him and praising Him for doing that for me, when He clearly said to me that He gave me this house, and He wouldn't put me in harm's way.  If  He gave it to me, which He did, then He was already here and He made it a safe place for me to dwell.

I love it when the God of the universe goes to the trouble of doing something that will be very special to me.  He knew that it would give me peace to know He did that for me. It's home sweet home because He picked it out and was already here when I got here.  My Father is awesome!

Puzzling Times

The months since mid-March, when we were told we are in a pandemic, have been hard. 

At times I've felt isolated, like I was on a desert island with no boats in sight. It seemed at times like no one cared. None of my kids live near me, and it's so evident to me lately that I am alone.

I've had some anxiety, unsure of what lies ahead. I've basically become a hermit. For over 4 months, I only left the house for two reasons:  to do a grocery pick-up, not even getting out of the car, and go in to the office twice a week to do a few things for work that I can't do from home.

When school was about to start, I started going back daily, like normal. Only it's not normal. I stay in my office most of the day, and when I do leave I wear a mask.

The whole thing is stressful and so very "not normal." At times, it really starts to wear on me.

A couple of months ago, I was taking to my son and daughter-in-law, telling them how I was struggling emotionally. I really only feel safe when I am home, so that's where I stay most of the time. I don't unload often (at least I hope not) but that day, I guess it was showing that the stress was getting to me. I was battling depression, and I needed help. We talked a while, and I felt better after talking to them. 

About a week later, I came home to find a package on my front porch. My son and his wife had sent me a puzzle that they had worked recently, along with a sweet note. I was so touched at their gesture.

It's been on my kitchen table for the last couple of months, and at times I thought I would never get it together. But today, I put the last piece in. Finished!

While working on this puzzle, it occurred to me that the Christian walk has similarities to working a puzzle. 

We think we know what is right, until nothing seems to be going right. Eventually, we cry out to God for help, and He very patiently removes the piece we placed wrong and puts the correct piece in its place. 

This happened to me time and again while I was working on this puzzle. I would think I had it right; it seemed to fit, but later on it became evident that a specific piece just didn't go where I had put it. This particular brand of puzzle has a definite feel when you have it right. It just "schloops" right in, almost like it's magnetically drawn to the spot, and there is no more doubt that it's in the right place.

I know that may sound silly, but it seemed worth saying. Depression is a dark place that I have carefully avoided for many years, but have once again come dangerously close to. Working this puzzle was a reward to me for working all day. I could come home and work on the puzzle a little each day. It gave me something to look forward to.

I've written lots of times about getting free from depression, so it's probably surprising and perhaps disappointing to some of you to read that I'm struggling again. It's more complicated than "just going back there."

Depression is sneaky. It hangs around the edges and seizes any opportunity to drag its victims back into the darkness. This time, it felt like I was walking along in the fog and to one side there was a cliff.  On the other side, though, was my Savior, holding my hand and leading me back to a safer path.

During the last few weeks I have been doing much better. I know that Jesus never leaves me or forsakes me, and I am never alone. I've been walking with Him since October 1994 when I gave my life to Him. He has never once left my side, even though at times I have felt alone. 

He has been with me through it all, and He will never leave me. He will get me through this.

"The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; He delivers them from all their troubles.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all." Psalm 34:17-19