Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.  ~C.S. Lewis

To be honest, if God asked, most of my life I’d have been content to be made into a decent little cottage. I was willing to see what I showed. From all appearances, it seemed to be a neat and tidy place with a leak or two and a few cracks in the plaster. But He saw the neglect; the rot and the decay I continued to putty and paint over.

He walked among the shards of promises unmet and unkept. He stepped into the wreckage of my self-worth and neglected gifts and piece by piece began the work of rebuilding. He didn’t bring in a bulldozer. That would have been my vote. Instead He took upon Himself the tedious task of restoration.

There have been times when I thought the pain was too heavy for these weak walls, but in those moments, God always added a support beam. Board by board and brick by brick, He’s rebuilding His dwelling, true to the original schematics.

That’s grace.


Not all who wander are lost. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

(I’m breaking my 2 minute limit, just today, to offer a bit of explanation – this post may take 3 minutes to read)

All who wander aren’t lost. I have a Life is Good t-shirt that has that written on it. So Tolkienesk, isn’t it?

Wandering is uncomfortable for me. I like to know where I’m going. I was never a big change is an opportunity not a challenge fan. I do believe that’s true for some folks. They love change. I just wasn’t one of them.

Some of you read my other blog, but for those of you who don’t, I now live in a state of perpetual change. I left the Midwest 4 years ago, spending 3 years on the Oregon coast. For this past year, I’ve lived in southern Texas, working as a gate guard on an oil rig.

I’m not sure anything could be more chock full of change. I’ve never worked outside of the Counseling/Training arena. I knew absolutely nothing about the oil industry since we had a massive lack of oil wells in Iowa. I really don’t like hot weather. In southern Texas, it’s summer 9 months out of the year. We had 2 1/2 straight months of 100+ heat this summer.

I’m arachnophobic. I can’t even count the number of tarantulas I’ve seen. More impacting is the fact that I hate conflict which probably makes me the most unlikely security guard in the history of time.

The list goes one. Although I was a public speaker for 20+ years, I don’t speak southern. My not speaking it usually isn’t a problem since the Midwest accent, that I didn’t know I had, is pretty generic. The issue in not speaking southern is that I don’t always know what people are saying. Like working on an oil rig and asking the guys to spell things like OIL because you think they’re saying ALL!

The company I’ve been with all year stacked all their rigs Wednesday. For the past two weeks, I expected to be unemployed. The Father, who has graciously provided work in the most unexpected times and places for these last 4 years. also graciously provided peace. For one who doesn’t like wandering, I didn’t feel any anxiety this time. I was content to wait.

The call for another gate guard job came 2 hours before I would have been out of work. I’m now with a new company, in a new area, with almost no internet. More change. This job will last until Thanksgiving, then it’s back to wandering.

If you follow me here at TMG or at Fork in the Road or if you follow Heidi’s Good Life recovery blog and you find we’re not posting – or more importantly – not commenting on your blogs, it’s because the window of internet access is so small. This is the first time in the 30 hours we’ve been here that I could get on-line.

So, here I am: wandering, but not lost. I have Someone I’m following. I’ll visit you whenever I can, and write whenever I can. In between, I’ll continue to hold you in my prayers. And that’s a promise.