Bricks, Ambulances and Anchors

The rollercoaster has just about slowed to a gentle, slightly jolting pace (I’m thinking of the discovery of a leaking washing machine this morning!), and it seems that our carriage is to rest in Glen Ellyn, Illinois for the foreseeable future.

What a relief to be in a house that we can call our home, to know that the people we are connecting with may be friends for a while and that the places we visit will become familiar.

Having slowed to a more steady pace as we acquired a house to live in, it felt like we lurched back up to full speed a couple of weeks ago with a 911 call for Billy, as we saw him have a seizure and struggle to breathe – and in those agonising minutes before the ambulance got here, imagine the worst many times over.

Thankfully, Billy is back to himself, bouncing along in the flip-flops he refuses to take off and carrying the toy hammer he’s taken to sleeping with. And Rufus, having taken a dive due to the same virus, is – as I write – organising rescue after rescue of his playmobil men via the super powers of Postman Pat and his many vehicles.

Normality is resumed. New, home-anchored normality.

This last minute lurch in our unending rollercoaster of a year reminded us of our fragility, despite bricks and mortar stability. It has been tempting to think, along the way, that we just need a home. As long as we have a place to live, and do family life, all will be well.

There’s no doubt that having the house has made life easier. We are more relaxed than we’ve been for months. But it’s only a thing and – as we’ve discovered this year – it can disappear in an instant. We know, as Christians, that it’s only Jesus who gives unchanging security and certainty. It’s only through Him that life from here to eternity is sorted. And yet we’ve found ourselves tempted to put that trust in other things – the business going well, the dream home, perfect family life.

Those terrifying few minutes with Billy threw us back onto our loving Father, as we desperately prayed for our son. While we felt steadied by a permanent address, we were reminded that we’d been anchored all along through Jesus.

 

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