Musical Chairs

The game sounds nice, but, you see, I am not really a musical chairs kinda gal. While I might have fun at an innocent game or two, the premise actually is pretty stressful for me. Find a place to sit; find it quickly before anyone else can take it;  a place that is your own; a place to hunker down and be comfy; somewhere to sit with assurance while those around you scramble to find purchase on a sanctuary. I like to know what I have is mine. It brings me joy to have control over my surroundings so I can alter them to best meet my needs, and also be as aesthetically pleasing to my eye as possible. I don’t really want to flit from place to place.  I don't like to rent or borrow.  I don't want to intrude, and I don't want to be a burden.  I hate feeling like I am in competition for anything.  I don't really enjoy the process of uprooting and relocating.  I would be happy to settle down in the house of my dreams and be there till I meet the Maker (with some great vacations scattered about, mind you).


So here I am now, basically homeless. I have a place to live, a place to store my stuff, and a place for my kids to sleep safely in peace - but, it is not mine. A lot of “my” things are in boxes, my family of six is lined up like sardines in two bedrooms upstairs, and I have to adjust to having people around all the time. These things are not all bad but do require some concessions, growing in patience, and dying to what my selfish self wants.

I do believe we are on a new chapter of “Charity’s total makeover”, but this one doesn’t involve hair and makeup. God has been pruning my soul, turning diamonds to coal, and forcing me to do without. Really, I am thrilled about it. I truly am. In the quiet moments when the Spirit is near I realize that this is exactly what I need. I do not, however, always have a great attitude about it. It is so satisfying to be selfish and discontent at times. It is easy to give into the anger and frustration when you aren’t allowed full access to what you are most accustomed too.

I spent many days of the last year and a half wondering if I would loose my spouse and then have to function as a single mom. I had to sell a home I loved. My schedule became crazy and I could not just stay home to snuggle my newborn. I had to pack her up and haul her to multiple doctor appointments and visits to the hospital with her three wild brothers in tow at times too. I was forced to rely on others. This required letting people into my life to see what I usually keep private. Then, I had to pack up and leave my new family of five years. I had to leave place I had grown to love but could no longer stay in.

I thought the move home would be the stress reliever I needed. That God, I tell ya, He has so much up His sleeve. They are big sleeves you know. He knows I am thrilled to see my family often and that there are certain things about home that cannot be found anywhere else. But He knows that I only made it through phase one of the current makeover during the last 17 months. Phase two is going to require me to detach form some things that I had convinced myself to hold tightly too. The good news: the hard work will lead to a great payoff. The bad news: dealing with more change.

I will not run about wildly, dashing my friends to the ground in order to lay claim to a chair. Seems a bit like the mad land rushes in the 1800’s. I would rather just take my chair privately out somewhere where I can feel the breeze and hear the birds. I’ve got some soul searching to do, some fists to unclench, and some ideals to restructure. 

Excuse me, I think I hear the music starting...