The ugly truth crawled into my brain yesterday morning during the pastor’s sermon. It wasn’t pretty.
My pride would kill us.
The pastor spoke on burdens and it dawned on me that my pride was the source of one of our greatest burdens even though I thought I’d conquered it. Didn’t I buy Wal-Mart brand food now? Didn’t I wear jeans purchased at thrift stores and wear my bras until the elastic stretched like an overdone piece of spaghetti?
Did God really want me to give up on my house dreams?
Twenty-five years ago my husband and I built (by hand) our dream home on three acres on a hilltop. We stuffed insulation, painted, wallpapered and designed rooms to entertain our friends. I bawled all the way to Florida when we sold it and moved.
Then God gave us our Clermont home. Oh yes. It was bigger and better than our PA home. Soaring ceilings. Open floor plan. Columns and tiled floors. All on a landscaped acre in a community of custom homes.
I forgot about my PA home and threw myself into decorating this one.
But the recession changed the game. We laid awake at night wondering how we would pay our $621 mortgage each month on unemployment. We feared foreclosure and wished we had paid our home off when we were making the big bucks. Instead I bought clothing and furniture and took trips—certain that we had it made.
When we moved to Texas and then sold our home in Florida, I began a search for my new home. The one I was certain God would give us to make up for the one I had given up. I imagined making friends here and entertaining in a huge family room on acres on land for my grandchildren to play on. Wasn’t that what we were supposed to have at our age? Wasn’t that what God would do for us now that we had suffered enough?
I can be pretty dumb at times.
Three banks turned us down for a mortgage because my husband hadn’t been working yet for six months. Every home I drooled over went pending the day before I set up to look at it. On and on it went.
Until yesterday when finally God made me aware of my prideful burden I wanted to put on my family.
I don’t need a fancy home to entertain real friends. I don’t need a fancy home to feel like I’d made it. I am not entitled.
God has given us enough funds to buy a home big enough for us to live in and be debt free so we can sleep at night. He has answered my desperate prayers sent to Him over and over for four years. It is enough. Just because I’m the age I am doesn’t mean a thing. I had to remind myself that many people my age don’t even own a home now and might never again.
The ugly truth can be darned ugly when come face to face with it. But the real truth that God takes care of our NEEDS is so much prettier.