I was nearing my third trimester and we had just moved to our new(est) rental house. It was a 1970s Ranch style house with "gorgeous" dark wood paneling and "stunning" wallpaper. For us it was an oasis, wood paneling and all, after a wild ride of life in West Africa.
On a sun soaked fall day we took to the yard to wash our car and trim up the low lying trees- a bit of American normalcy. I waddled myself around the front yard pruning as our new neighbors across the street sat and stared at me.
They sat and stared.
They didn't get up and come over to introduce themselves. They just sat and stared as I hauled my burgeoning belly and a pair of clippers from limb to limb uncomfortably aware of their gaze.
We lived in that house for eighteen months and our only interaction with those neighbors was at our mailbox which was next to their own and on their side of the street. Even then it was always from across a chain link fence.
We were wearied by life right down to the bone and that little house on Blacksnake road held us through an uncertain time of life. God held us and He used people to carry us along through new parenthood and all our questions about calling and place.
We were in desperate need of community that got off the porch and moved toward us.
I'm getting up off my porch to share a bit of my story and you can read the rest of the story over at (in)courage today.
Maybe you've heard me or other folks talking about the (in)RL conference. The women's conference that comes to you. There is still time to find out more and join in on April 25-26th. I'm getting up off my porch to share my story with you as one of the conference speakers (GULP) and it would be almost like sipping a mason jar of sweet iced tea with you if you were on the other side of the screen.
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