I'll Take A Burning Bush, Please

I hold a firm belief that life is only truly understood in hindsight. The lessons I have learned are rarely apparent as I experienced them. Distance is how they become even more absolute and only by reflection. I came to this belief after many, many pleas to God for answers to an unanswerable question - "Why is this happening to me?"

Never once have I received the answer in what I would consider a "burning bush" fashion but rather a tiny whisper of assurance, a coincidence, a calmness in my spirit.

Now, I am a "burning bush" kind of woman. I need, crave, proof-positive answers. I need to know WHY and I need the answers NOW. God has always answered me in the same way - "You do not need to know why and not now." You would think after five decades of life I would accept this but - surprise - I still struggle.

In my last blog I mentioned we had tried to buy our dream home twice. Each time, I was certain it was the right time. Each time it did not happen. Letting go once of the dream was hard enough but the second time was torture.

The second time we looked at this house my mother was alive and we brought her with us. I wanted more than anything for her to move in with us. I wanted to be able to take care of her as her health was rapidly declining. I wanted her to be with me and for us to share the time she had left. I wanted to hear more, learn more and be more with her.

I wanted. I wanted. I wanted. I wanted.

She simply said, "no".  She rationally explained her answer and, in hindsight, she was right.

After my mother passed in August of 2003, I entered into a deep, dark tunnel in life. I felt destroyed in all ways possible - physically, mentally and spiritually. I was broken and disillusioned. It seemed insurmountable. I cried out for help. God did not answer nor even seem to care about me. He did not smite nor punish the ones who betrayed me. He did not send pest nor pestilence to avenge me. (These were my "burning bush" requests so I would KNOW he heard me.)

Instead, he sent me a house.

Opening the paper one Sunday morning after church, Bear began to point and grunt at a picture in the real estate section. I peered over his shoulder and saw THE HOUSE was for sale again. We called our realtor and by that afternoon we were sitting where once my mother and I had set. We were signing a contract to finally make this house our house. In a matter of hours our whole life was changing. In hindsight, one might call this a "burning bush" answer?

When we met with the owners, Bear and the husband went out to survey the property lines. I stayed inside with the wife. Never one for silences, I began to explain to her how my mother had been here with me before and had set on the same bar stool I now occupied. As I talked of my mother the tears began to flow. I choked out the whole sordid story of how my family had disintegrated before my very eyes and how people had abandoned me and how alone I felt without the rock of my mother in my life.

It was one of those epic and awkward situations where you find yourself pouring out your soul to a total stranger. I honestly could not pick this woman out of a line up. I have no recollection of what she looked like. All I know is what she said as she patted my arm and handed me a tissue - "you will find peace here".

"You will find peace here". And I did.