Move guided by love and faith

This is part two of “the move” — four weeks later — as our daughter's family is on the road east from Spokane to Kentucky — where our son-in-law will be a police officer for the Ark Encounter and Creation Science Museum venues. I wrote at New Year's of the suddenness of this decision to move, and the encouragements I have had as I deal with news I did not want.

But the reality is I have also had great struggles. 

Our daughter and husband were so convinced this was the right course they had U-Haul pods delivered to their garage door and started packing them — before their home was even on the market.

When it was advertised, they accepted an offer in four days. Then it was a mad scramble to finish emptying the house, and load the last pod to be picked up, which happened this past week.

How can you argue with what is right is right.

This whole venture picked up speed from an idea to now-they-are-on-the-road-east, in less than three months. I purchased a road atlas, and am following their journey with the map. They are in Illinois, with one day to go of a five-day trip.

This time of year driving across Montana, and Wyoming, and South Dakota, and Iowa can be unfriendly to put it mildly. They did not let that stop them.  

I set up a cot in the big sister's room, and soaked in my last couple of days with our quartet of young grands before the move. We played games and read books and watched movies. I savored our daughter's voice reading from a biography of Daniel Boone each night — they are, after all, heading for Kentucky. We laughed over a grand's farewell card from his church friends. One girl wrote she would “miss my fave enemy.” 

It was all wonderful — and terrible at the same time. Because it really was the last — as we've known life living near. I never like people leaving. I would love to have our four kids, 20 grands, and one great-grand within a comfortable radius. But our family has a wide wingspan.

It is all part of a bigger plan than I've got. I go to that conversation Jesus had with His disciples, when He knew He'd be leaving them and knew how they'd feel about it. Because they didn't understand there was to be a resurrection.

He told them He would not leave them as “orphans” — but would send of Himself the “Helper” — the Holy Spirit — to be with them forever. I can't begin to explain how all this works. I just know it does. I do not have to feel “orphaned” when people leave. I am not alone.

It's a slam to the heart to let go. I've been thinking how the changing time zones and the road miles are taking these loved ones farther and farther away. But then the Helper says, “Try thinking they are getting closer to their adventure to the invitation I have for them.”

And I know it's true — the one who made the road guides their journey and mine.