My parents moved to our new town this past weekend. Their journey to get here has been a long, hard road. One month ago, while they were packing for the move, my father had a mini-stroke followed by heart surgery. Their place had sold and they needed to be out of it just two weeks after the surgery. I prayed that God would astound them with how He would provide for them. Friends at their park in Arizona helped Mom pack and load up the cargo trailer. Another friend gave up her place for them to stay in it for the last three weeks. My brother returned from Haiti to drive with Dad (a former trucker) across country, his role being to grab the wheel if need be, that is, if he could stay awake with his own jet lag. Mom flew with their traumatized cat under her seat. Their new landlords here let me have their key – before they arrived to sign the lease – so we could get the apartment ready for them (beds made and refrigerator filled). Our new friends here offered their truck and backs to move in some furniture.
All this happened while we had a full house. The day our California houseguests arrived (the day I cleaned five bathrooms and made seven beds), I looked at Steve, toilet brush in my hand, and laughed as I realized this is how we were spending our last day alone in our new town. I haven’t lived in the same town with my parents since I graduated from high school at age 17, and I expect it’ll be a bit of an adjustment. After just three months here ourselves, Steve and I get tired just thinking of starting all over with helping unpack boxes and set up accounts with banks and utilities.
But we are so thankful that my parents are safely here now. God truly astounded me with how He answered my prayer to provide for my parents.