We live in the country. A beautiful old farmhouse, an acre of property. Room for a dog, two cats, four chickens, and a pot bellied pig. We've been living here for about 7 1/2 years, the house is still not "done", but the living is good.
Today I am sitting on our front porch. A little thing with a rocking chair, under a juliette balcony. The road is fairly busy with traffic, there's construction happening across the field. Not much else. We don't see many people around here, though there are neighbours. There are about four houses to our right, across the field. Across the road to our right another four or so. To the left, an intersection with a gas station and a "hamlet" worth of houses. Across the field at the back, some more houses, with a new one being built. Over the road and straight across, a bunch of million dollar homes being built.
Our church is situated in Hamilton right downtown. As a church, we have a strong mission focus, with a lot of thought to community interaction, and our family agrees with the importance of this focus. Often that makes our family think about moving back to Hamilton. Moving to a "real" neighbourhood, allowing for more interaction. We have friends who are involved in Move In, and that is very intriguing and in many ways appealing to us. We do love people, and interaction, and community.
But here we are. In our farmhouse, in the country. What does God want from us here? Of course, we could move. And we'll do it, if it seems like that is what God wants. But right now he doesn't seem to making that clear to us. So what do we do here?
I sit on our porch and know one thing I can do. One powerful and beautiful thing. I can pray. I can pray for Patricia, who owns the land around us. Whose husband died a year ago and who is left alone to work out his dreams of developing the land, one field at a time. I can pray for the families who have bought properties from her, who are building their "dream" homes, and then seeing their dreams shatter in marriage issues (yes, we hear about this, as the houses which have just been built go up for sale), and realization that money can't buy happiness. I can pray for our soon-to-be-neighbour Ivana who is building her home across the back field, who is older and single and so eager to move in, she says, so that our children can garden with her and bring her eggs and cookies. I can pray for the people down the road who have just begun a walking routine, possibly to deal with health issues that have set in at their later stage of life. I can pray for Kevin and his family, as they settle in to life in the country a few houses down from us after having moved from east Hamilton, and as his two children go through college and university. I can pray for neighbours who we never seem to see, but who are there and living before the face of God as we all are - that they may know they are living before him, and may reckon with that.
Just this morning I helped friends move from one house to another, on the same street in downtown Hamilton. Their neighbours watched, we smiled and greeted each other. I could live there. I could meet people, interact with them, be part of their lives. But I am here, and God has a big task for me here too. Yes, less interaction, but maybe more emphasis on God's all-powerful, all-knowing hand. All I can do here is pray. I can't do much to get my hands involved. Or stick my nose in my neighbours' business. Maybe that's God's idea of teaching me something. Reminding me that he is the powerful one, and I need to rely on his power more, and my own less.
