This time last year, I had visions of a new home. This old one, well, it was getting on my nerves. The carpet was dingy, the electricity, surgey, and the yard, weedy. I wanted to live in a new place, to make my mark on a new neighborhood, to have a bathtub that drained properly.
So I put my house up for sale.
I didn't do it rashly, at least it didn't seem that way. I prayed about it; I talked to people about it; I analyzed my finances and came up with a plan. I even made sure that there was another place I could afford that would meet all my new criteria before I sold this one and left myself without a home. And even though it was possible that my house would sell right away, I didn't really expect it.
I was being realistic, and I was calling it, "Trusting the Lord."