Our family has been through much turmoil over the past five years with a house that burned, two different car accidents which caused concussions and whiplash for my daughter and I, plumbing problems requiring three complete renovations from a sewage back-up, and two water problems that caused mold. I had been searching for another house to buy for a few years. This summer I found the perfect home, or so I thought. We looked forward to moving into a lovely place, in some ways, representing a new beginning.

Six weeks later, a moving van pulled up with our 9,400 pounds of personal belongings and movers helped us unload at our new address. My daughter Andrea was leaving for college three weeks after our move day, so my focus was to get her settled in her new bedroom so she could feel at home before she headed out of state to school. The movers left and we arranged her furniture and made her bed. I felt a wet spot on her carpet and investigated. The next day, plumbers came and discovered a back-up in the laundry room drain which had flooded my daughter’s bedroom. We thought we had a simple problem only to discover colossal trouble—rotted cast-iron pipes under the foundation of our house. All the pipes under our new home had to be removed. We had just been through this and we didn’t need another mess to deal with.

Plumbers sealed doorways and the garage with plastic to minimize the dust from removing the tile and concrete. In spite of their effort, dust clouds still filled our rooms. A team of three jackhammered the foundation for over a week and carried out the concrete chunks, dirt, and broken tile in five-gallon orange buckets. Over thirty buckets filled our driveway day after day. The floor vibrated the upstairs rattling our peace and pounding our eardrums. We had dirt trenches winding through all the walkways. The only way for my son to enter his bedroom was through his window because his doorway was sealed with plastic. Our bottom floor looked like a Halloween maze.

To block out the noise, I plugged my ears with my palms and sang. God, I know you love me. God, I know you love me. God, I know you love me. I trust you to bring rest to my family. This is temporary. You will make all things beautiful in Your time. I sang louder than the jackhammer. My words saturated my heart and blocked the noise—not just the noise of the jackhammer, but the worrisome thoughts in my mind trying to steal my peace.

Tears dripped down my face, but I smiled knowing I could trust in the truths of God’s promises. Circumstances were difficult, but still, I turned to the Lord and sang.

I think this is called a sacrifice of praise.

 

 

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