sometimes, you have to wait

sometimes, you have to wait

I used to think I had a boring testimony. I grew up with wonderful, Christian parents. I walked the aisle when I was about 10 after having a strong call to missions. Unlike many of the people I knew from youth group, I never really wavered from my faith. I had doubts, sure, who doesn’t? But there’s never been a time I did not believe there was a God who cared about me. I didn’t rebel. I have often asked my parents what they DID to me to make me not want to be bad? They don’t know. I wish they did!

While Mr. V and I have never had tons of money, we’ve always had enough. We never went through a period where we had to eat ramen noodles. We’ve never argued significantly. While we went through a short period of infertility, it was not too awful. We’ve had a very happy five years and have a beautiful, healthy daughter.

At Thanksgiving, when Mr. V still had no job interviews lined up for January, I remember thinking, “Well, we’ve not had any hard times in our marriage so far. Maybe this is it.”

And it is.

Not that our marriage is not wonderful, but situationally it has just been a difficult nine months.

Mr. V applied for many college teaching positions–many much closer to our parents–and got not one interview. We felt so desperate. He then applied to many private high schools in Nashville. He had one interview. They hired someone else the next day.

But God had something better planned for us. Through the Southern Teachers Agency, a very prestigious school pursued him and hired him almost immediately (one MUCH better than the one he interviewed at here).

We had always assumed we would be moving after five years. And then we thought, hey, maybe we won’t have to! And then, ooh, yep, we do. So our house didn’t go on the market until the second week of June and Mr. V needed to be in Chattanooga middle of August.

Needless to say, it hasn’t sold. We’ve had a small handful of showings and nothing to show for it except a pretty clean house containing a lonely mother and her ten-month-old baby.

I want so, so badly for our house to sell so I can quit my job, go be a stay-at-home mom and freelancer, and be with Mr. V in Chattanooga. I let that get to me. A LOT! It’s a daily struggle to not whine continuously and wonder why on earth God would be “doing this to me.”

I can’t tell you how many Sunday School lessons and sermons I’ve heard on patience in the last few months. (This morning, visiting a church in Chattanooga, included.) And Mr. V and I believe it when God promises He will work all things for good. That He has a plan for us. That to Him, one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years is like a day.

We’re convinced that God will move me and Libbie to Chattanooga at the exact right time for His plan. Maybe there is a reason I need to be here. Maybe there is a reason I need to move there at some particular time. Either way, we are 100% sure God will allow it to happen in His time if we listen to His Word and obey. Bemoaning all the time I have to be apart from Mr. V does no good. I need to relish God’s plan and delight myself in Him.

Perhaps it’s all a big lesson in patience, faith, and God’s timing. Something I need to learn. And if this is the way for God to knock it into my thick head, I’m OK with that. Because I believe He loves me. Just like sometimes I need to tell Libbie “no” for her own good, sometimes He needs to say, “Not now, dear one. Wait.”

Originally published at Vanderbilt Wife