More Awesome Than I Know

When Jonathan and I lived in Middle Georgia we were settled; until a week before he resigned his position, we were planning to grow old there.  But when he did resign and we ended up coming west in the state, it was supposed to be temporary.  At first, Jonathan had a very temporary job, and I was selling real estate full time and not very successfully.  This wasn’t the promised land, it was just a stop over until Jonathan could either return to church ministry or enroll in seminary.

It turned into a five year stop over.

The entire time we knew it wasn’t permanent.  When contract renewal time came up for teaching every year, we’d ask the Lord if this was the year we were supposed to move on.  We bought a fixer-upper house specifically because we knew we would need sweat equity in a home here – we knew it wasn’t permanent.  We’ve had furniture and appliances in storage for five years.  We’ve had books and photographs in boxes waiting a permanent home.  This has never been the Promised Land for us.

It has, however, become comfortable, and now that there’s a for sale sign in my front yard, and I’m in the last week of school, I realize that I want West Central Georgia to be our Promised Land.  Both of my children will have this county stamped on their birth certificates for the rest of their lives.  We have such fantastic friends, and have been so blessed with a loving and supporting church family.  One of the young women in our small group just found out she’s pregnant.   I want to be here to watch her bloom in her pregnancy, and then to watch her and her husband grow in this journey called parenting.  I want my daughter to be able to say “Oh Abigail’s been my friend since before we were one.  We used to play in the church nursery together.”  When my mackerdoodle sees friends like Terri and Andrea and their daughters in her baby book, I want her to know who those people are because we just saw them last week.

Faced with another four years of transience, I suddenly find myself wanting to dig in my toes and force them to become roots in this red West Central Georgia clay.

Sara Groves sings a song called “Painting Pictures of Egypt” that has been going round and round in my head over the last week or so.  It begins this way:

I don’t want to leave here  I don’t want to stay
It feels like pinching to me either way

And it does.  We’ve been waiting for this opportunity for five years, but now that it’s here it’s pinching me.  I’ve found myself not knowing how to pray, feeling both elated and deflated when Jonathan was notified that he had received a 50% scholarship, wanting to cry and rejoice when the Presbytery affirmed him as a student and brought him under care.

On the way to church on Sunday a song I know by heart but had forgotten came on the radio.  It was precisely the reminder I needed and I have been forcing myself to meditate on this truth, when I find myself bogged down in the pinching present.

All of You is more than enough for all of me
For every thirst and every need
You satisfy me with Your love
And all I have in You is more than enough

The verses contain the repeated phrase “Still more awesome than I know” and I was struck on Sunday that when we left Middle Georgia, I had no idea how blessed we would be for five years here in this temporary home.  Not only is Christ enough but his blessings continue to be more awesome than I know.  More awesome than roots and unpacked books.  More awesome than church nursery friendships.  More awesome than more scrapbooking nights with Jawan, or visiting Danielle with her new baby in the hospital or all of the things that I think I need and will leave holes in me when we pack up and go.

St. Louis will be more awesome than I know, not because it is new and exciting, but because it is the path created by a God who is so much more than enough to cover those things, and provide new things.  He is a God who is more than enough in salvation, but also more than enough in these seemingly trivial aches of our human corrupted hearts.

He is more than enough, and He continues to be more awesome than I know.  So I’m putting down my paintbrush and looking toward the next stop over on our way to our Promised Land.  The journey is bound to be more awesome than I now know.

About Coralie

After 11 years of infertility, I am now a mother to three, a wife of a Presbyterian (ARP) preacher and a struggling homemaker. Welcome to my little corner of the net. Kick off your shoes, put your feet up and join the conversation. View all posts by Coralie

6 responses to “More Awesome Than I Know

  • Jawan

    You have officially made me cry. Until now, I haven’t really thought about the reality that you are leaving and will be gone for four years…and then there’s the great possibility that the Lord will probably lead you somewhere besides back to west central Georgia. I must admit that I sometimes hate this part of being the pastor’s family. The Lord brings faithful families and creates tight friendships and then He moves them on. Then I am also reminded of the joy that is mine in that we have been friends for a year and will continue to be so, just not within hug range.

    I am so thankful for you, Coralie. It’s amazing how relationships are formed and grown in a short period of time. My prayer for you is that you find a sweet close circle of friends in St. Louis with whom you can grow, cry, and laugh. I am envious that I won’t be able to see Mackerdoodle on a regular basis or get to watch Cheesedoodle’s first year of life pass by. I’d love it if God brought you back to us but I am thrilled at the possibility that he might use you elsewhere for his glory.

  • a suburban housewife

    On the flip side, remember how God sustains friendships that aren’t local. I believe there is a richer dimension to our relationship since we’ve move from West Central Georgia. I think of all the people we met and loved when Rob was in seminary; they have touched our lives in one way or another. You know how y’all (Terri mostly!) joke that everywhere we go, Rob always sees someone he knows, whether in Georgia or Minnesota? The same will be true of you. Most everyone in seminary leaves to take the gospel to a different location- you and Jonathan will have a piece of those lives.

  • Nowheymama

    You’ve captured the bittersweetness of this situation perfectly.

  • Carole

    You touched my heart too..our situations are similar in some ways. After 30 years in the one small Northern B.C. town,we have chosen to move right across the country IN 2 WEEKS!!! The details are different in many ways,but the feelings I can relate to. What a blessing we have the same God to guide us

  • Tera Montgomery

    Thank you for that post! Transition is always such a difficult thing, full of excitement and fear. There is so much going on in your life right now and I am so glad that God has you here right now and in His care and grace for the rest of your life.

    (Now I am crying too 🙂 )

  • Terri

    Interesting, I never knew this was your perspective on your life here. I always felt you guys wouldn’t be here forever though I hoped differently; but I guess I didn’t realize how temporarily you guys viewed your time here. And here I thought we’d covered just about everything concerning our respective lives in our many late night conversations. 🙂 I remember you commenting to me one time that teaching was Jonathan’s dream job. Just goes to show that you can know someone a long time and not really know them; also, goes to show how God can radically turn our lives in a completely different direction from what we would’ve expected.

    I do know how you feel though. Savannah had grown comfortable to me, too, then Buddy up and decided he wanted to interview for a job here in Waverly Hall. I definitely remember digging my heels in, but ten years later, I definitely see God’s hand in our move here. This is our Promised Land as was Savannah when we were there and so will be any other place God may move us. St. Louis will be your Promised Land at least for the next four years. 🙂

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