It’s official. We are formally engaged to our house! The closing will be in two months – not the five months we’d hoped for – meaning the house will be ours four months before we can live in it. It turns out that the man who is selling the house is much more ill than we originally thought. He needed to have this sale completed quickly to know his wife will be taken care of after he dies. The very weekend his house went back on the market, we signed the contract, relieving him of any anxiety about the matter. Even though the next few months of our lives will be a bit more hectic than we’d planned, Steve and I were happy to comply with his wishes. We are certain that God intricately orchestrated the timing and details, and believe He wants us to be a blessing to this dear godly couple. They have certainly blessed us.
When I was a single missionary, I never expected that some day I’d own a home. By the time we will move into my first house, I’ll be 53. Steve spent many single years watching the swarming locusts tear down much of his life and dreams, while faithfully plodding on. We’re about to enter a season of building up. At our wedding, I promised Steve that I would be part of the way that God makes up to him for the years the locusts had eaten (Joel 2:25). I also recited to him from Robert Browning, "Grow old along with me. The best is yet to be." It’s all been good, very good in fact, but could it be that we’re standing on the verge of the best?