Part 6

Moving into a Casita (one bedroom with a kitchenette) for most sounds like a fun adventure but this very tired mom of three was not thrilled at the idea. With two packed U-hauls and a husband driving an attached U-Haul on his truck everywhere, we were homeless. We were homeless and had no idea what we were supposed to do.

I questioned God tirelessly into the wee hours of the morning. Why? Why did you allow this God, why does nothing really make sense, why were doors open for us getting here and now they seemed to be closing, why after feeling a peace about our home and neighborhood after such sadness of leaving California was our home taken, Tim's job taken! Why God!

Tears came effortlessly at all moments of the day. I wandered the Target isle with Silas crying. I went to the grocery store crying, GOD WHY?

My heart was heavy for the kids. Titus and Tali were in their 3rd week of school, just barely getting into the swing of things. They have said good bye to their best friends in California and now said goodbye to the quickly made friends in the neighborhood. This wasn't making sense and though I pleaded with God to make it make sense, it didn't.

I had to write the kids teachers explaining our strange situation. This was humbling. I wrote Tali's teacher and appolagized for not having the proper color crayons for her homework. Titus needed folders from a store I couldn't seem to find. The little things were becoming mountains to climb. Making lunches every morning, filling water bottles, planning dinner in a hotel, all so strange. I too spent every other day at the laundry mat, cleaning sweaty dirty clothes. But most pressing was the fact that my husband who had been promised a job a good job was no longer going to be working for this man and needed to figure out what he was going to do and how he was going to provide for his family. As much as I hated him for bringing us to Arizona, I was deeply burdened by the heartache and betrayal he had experienced.

So where were we to go from here? When goodbyes have been said, mourning the reality of leaving friends and a town I love had already started.... do we move back? Or do we stay in this foreign place that for whatever reason (only God knows) we ended up in this place. I wrestled with these things for many, many months.

My spiritual struggle teetered from doubts of God's hand in things, to anger with God for requiring that I support my husband, to questioning all the people who gave us counsel along the way that we should do this.
"God are you punishing us?"
"God were we not listening to you before we moved?"
"Did you not open the doors and close doors for us to be here though?"

Between the physical exhaustion, the heat, the emotional strain and the spiritual battles, I was so broken, so beside myself that for moments I surrendered my will and trusted God to be faithful.