On Friday we signed a lease for a new place to live. We’ll be moving soon, a process that has been a long and winding road. Here’s the story of how it happened. Read Part One here , Part Two here and Part Three here.
As spring began to bloom around us, and life emerged from its winter rest, so our hope began to revive.
Phil got a promotion and a raise. It wasn’t a lot but it was something, and I hoped it would be enough to change our circumstances.I told our landlord we were searching seriously now for a place to live and that I would give her our official 30 days when we knew something for certain.
Soon, I thought. It’s going to happen soon. End of May. June at the latest, I thought.
I searched online, bookmarked sites, e-mailed, learned about Craigslist scams, made phone calls (and I hate making phone calls!). I calculated our income and faced the embarrassment of being turned down because it wasn’t enough. One woman practically hung up on me. I cried that day, too.
The places I thought would work wouldn’t have us or had already been rented by the time I called. The places we could afford were in areas I wasn’t sure I wanted to live in.
Too far away.
I felt like Goldilocks looking for “just right” and wondering if it even existed. I’d given up hope on a job for me and later got an e-mail confirming that the job was filled. I’d already moved on.
And God was moving my heart.
What are you afraid of? He asked.
I was afraid of the city and poor schools and poor people and violence, but those things are everywhere. Slowly, I surrendered my fears and hesitations, begging God to give us a place–any place–to live in Lancaster. I trusted God and knew He could keep us safe anywhere.
I would live in the city–if we had to.
I would learn to ride the bus–if we had to.
I would homeschool, maybe–if we had to.
But none of that felt right.
Then I got a Facebook message that changed everything.
Did I dare to have hope?