Kicking Against the Goads

We've been considering a move. Maybe to the city; maybe not. Maybe to a new school for the kids; maybe not. Maybe to settle closer to my in-laws; maybe not. Maybe to buy a neat little foreclosure, maybe to buy some land to build upon... and maybe not.

It's my indecision at it's worst. Because I really want to do things the Lord's way. But I am a fan of my own way, too. Know what I mean?

Nothing can happen until two things happen first: The fixer upper house needs to sell. And our home does, too.

When I told my grandpa we were considering a move, he asked me, "Don't you like where you are?" Actually, we do. Quite a lot.

Our neighborhood is great. Super neighbors. Safe streets, except for a select few speeders. Kids that our kids enjoy playing with. We have a good yard that accommodates the camper, the dog and the kids simultaneously when necessary.

And our house is fine. Fully functional. Mostly.

Actually, it's a great house.

There's nothing wrong with the hallway-closet-with-doors that houses our washer and dryer right now. For nearly nine years now, I've folded laundry while kneeling on the hallway floor or piling it upon our bed. And it's worked. But I have a bit of laundry room envy right now.

There's nothing bad about our bedroom being on the same floor as the kids' rooms instead of on the ground floor. Because our younger two still occasionally come to us in the middle of night when they have a bad dream. And it's not like we're really old enough yet to be thinking about living on one level.

There's nothing distasteful about the garage being on the basement level so that I walk groceries up to the kitchen before heading back down to grab more... and then go up and down again, and again, and again. Okay, there is something distasteful about that! But the kids mostly enjoy helping if they're home when I drive up with a van load of groceries.

So I've been distracted by the thought of moving. I wasn't concentrating as well as I should have to my Bible study. I found my mind wandering during church services. Preoccupied. Dreaming about a room that holds not only our washer and dryer, but maybe even a sink, a place to hang clothes, an ironing board (which might encourage me to iron more often!).

But God still gets to me, working around my head-in-the-clouds state. Our preacher brought up Acts 26:14. "And when we had all fallen to the ground, I heard a voice saying to me in the Hebrew language, 'Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads.'"

Goads? What are they? Related to toads?

My trusty NIV Life Application Bible's footnote says this, "An oxgoad was a sharp stick used to prod cattle. 'It is hard for you to kick against the goads' means, 'You are only hurting yourself.'"

Hmmm. Interesting. I filed that away for further study later.

And I dreamed about a real laundry room some more. Seriously. I average at least two loads of laundry a day. It's always on my mind. (Sad, I know.)

Then, along came my Bible Study Fellowship passage for the week. We're studying Moses this year. Right now, we're in Numbers. You don't get much of Moses without also getting a whole bunch of complaining Israelites.

Ironically (not really, though), we were smack dab in Numbers 11. It's so good, I actually read it out loud to Bruce.

Nutshell? The Israelites complained about their hardships, God's anger was aroused, He burned up some people.

But I wasn't complaining about hardships, so I wasn't feeling particularly hot at that point. Still, that was just the first verse of the chapter. God was just warming me up.

The people then complained about not getting their country meal of meat and veggies even though they had manna provided daily by God. God became "exceedingly angry". Moses was so troubled he vented to the LORD. He even asked God to just put him out of his misery... the misery of leading such ungrateful people.

God then gave the Israelites boatloads of quail... enough that it would come out of their noses and they'd be sick of it! And then he struck a plague on them and many died.

Hmmmm. Interesting.

Then it hit me.

I was complaining to Moses (Bruce) about having manna (God's provision of my home) instead of having meat and veggies (a house with the master bedroom and garage on the main level and a... ahhhhh... laundry room).

I don't want Bruce asking God to put him out of the misery of being married to a woman who lusts after square footage in a laundry room. I don't want God exceedingly angry at me for not seeing how He's blessed me. And I certainly don't want God to give me a different house in such abundance that it comes out of my nose. Ouch!

So, I've quit perusing the home listings.

And I've enjoyed my home for the past couple of days. Even though those days have been chock full of laundry loads. (Not to be confused with goads! Because I'm not kicking any right now.)

And my Moses really appreciates the peace.