I moved to Georgia from Arkansas 2 years ago, 2 1/2 months after my husband and I married. It wasn’t an easy decision. I was born and raised there and had never lived anywhere else. Nearly all of my family is there. My kids’ dad lives there. This was a big step, especially since my girls did not want to move. Their dad was going to fight me in court, and from the looks of his argument he was willing to do anything, including lying, to keep me from moving. I couldn’t afford a court battle. I could barely afford to put food on the table because he refused to pay child support. I had no idea what to do, other than pray.
My husband and I searched for jobs for him in Arkansas. We discussed every possible alternative, including continuing to live separately until the kids were grown. Most marriages end that way – in separation – but maybe if we started out from that end, we could beat the odds against lasting marriage. But I wanted to live with my husband and give my kids an example of a healthy, whole relationship between husband and wife. I wanted them to see first-hand how God expects husbands and wives to treat each other. I wanted to give them a home built in love on the firm foundation of Christ.
I shared my concerns with prayer warriors from my church, and they prayed with me and for me. One night, I dreamt about two women fighting over a child, and the king ordered the child to be cut in half. You’ve heard the story. The king was Solomon, and in his wisdom, he ruled in favor of the woman who chose to give up her child rather than see him killed. WOW. A ton of bricks. So there was my answer concerning the court battle. “Do not tear the children apart by fighting over them.” Plain as day.
But what about moving? We still didn’t know which, if either, of us should move. From a financial, logical, pragmatic viewpoint it made more sense for me to move because I hadn’t been at my job as long. My husband was well-established in his career, and he had other people depending on him for their jobs. Those were all human concerns, however, and I wanted to follow God’s lead.
I hadn’t really ever done that before. I had always made decisions first, then asked God to bless them. Sometimes He did, but most often, I found myself wondering if I was anywhere near His will, much less in it. This time, I wanted to be sure. I wanted clarity before I made my decision. So I laid it at His feet.
I prayed, “Lord, You know the desires of my heart. You know I need Your guidance. I’m seeking Your will in this, Father, and if it is Your will that I sell my house and move, please send me a buyer. If it is not Your will, then please, because You know my track-record, Father, keep me from straying. I ask that You place insurmountable obstacles in the path that would lead me out of Your will, and make clear the path that I should take.”
I prayed this way many times, then I contacted a realtor. I prayed again, “Lord, please do not send a buyer if this is not the way You would have me go.” We listed the house on a Tuesday, and the very next day he had an appointment to show it. They made an offer that evening. Their offer was slightly lower than what I had hoped for, so I countered. They accepted! I was amazed. I was also a little apprehensive. Deals fall through. People change their minds.
Again, I sought intervention from God. “Father, You are awesome and mighty; Your plans are perfect. I don’t know what you have in store for me, Lord, but this door just opened before me, and I am prepared to walk through it if that is what You would have me do. If not, I ask that You close it quickly. Slam it in my face if necessary.” We set a closing date, and the prospective buyers were incredibly persistent. They kept asking to move the date back. From the time the house was listed until the closing was finalized took less than 30 days. My realtor said he’d never seen a house move that quickly.
This was the beginning of a new way of life for me. I would soon be learning to fully rely on God. For now, this is precisely where I need to be.