I sat sullenly on a semi-rotted, wobbly, two-step entrance to an empty, sad looking, gray house. The steps were too narrow for two hineys. I didn't care, but Fred found an old, gray, rough-wood bench around the corner and dragged it closer to where I was. He semi-leveled it with some random 2X4 he found in the weeds.
We sat in the quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
I was missing my son and grandson back in Missouri. I did want to move to the mountains, just ... not right now. When Fred suggested we put our place in Missouri up for sale I agreed. There were several places around us that had been on the market for years. Surely, I'd get adequate time to adjust.
Imagine my surprise when our charming little orchard and green fields sold right out from underneath me, within the week! Okay then! God's will was not mine. Big surprised there. As I sat there, contemplating this free fall into God's plan, Fred was reveling in the fact that we found affordable, fenced acreage for sale. In his eyes, this was a sure sign God handpicked this place for us.
Neither of us dared to voice our thoughts. Moving is tough on marriage, no matter how much you love each other.
The brown dryness was stark if you asked me, but no one did. The only redeeming (& green) quality I could see was the stand of pinon trees; around and to the west of the carport. (I am a lover of trees. If it's got bark I want to hug it, except for sappy evergreens. I just admire them from a distance.)
The stand of pinons covered the northwestern slope of the fenced plot from the road all the way to the barn, hiding the ugly wire fence Fred was so proud of, but adding an age old, welcoming charm to the wooden corral down by the lean-to.
Suddenly, I heard what sounded like rain on the metal roof of the carport. I looked up. The sky was blue. I looked around. There were no puffs of dust dancing on the dry ground, no water drops were on the steps beside me. But, there were splats of wet on my arms!
I thought I was loosing my mind. Fred was not as intrigued as I, by this phenomena, but he acknowledged that there were, indeed, wet spots on my arms. It only lasted a few minutes. My intrigue stirred.
Looking to the west, the Sangre de Cristo mountains were turning various shades of purple and gold in the setting sun.
A paradigm shift wafted over my attitude, affecting my vision. The wind came up through the pinons, whispering a hopeful, "Welcome home." I was reminded of Psalm 91:4. "I will cover you with My pinions. Under My wings you may seek refuge."
My heart softened at the kind invitation.
"Fred, do you hear that?"
He listened, not hearing what I did.
"The wind is whispering to us! It's saying welcome home!" We smiled at each other, hearing the same message, both on the same page ... again.
Our Father is SO good and kind, and always loving.