I can always tell when I’ve given my dog Tiger too many treats, because he’ll start to whine and run around the house looking for a place to bury his excess treasure. Crying about how he has too many blessings; looking for a place to store them all up. I had the thought recently that this is what I’ve been doing, that this is what we humans tend to do, sometimes focusing on the things we’ve had to sacrifice, rather than on how full God has made our cup. We want to store all of our treasures up, clinging tightly to each and every one, unaware that perhaps every new miracle requires a sacrifice of some kind.
Yesterday, on the last day of 2021, I closed on the sale of my little house. What is usually cause for celebration for most has been something I’ve been grieving about for a few weeks. I love this little house. I climbed out of hell in this house. It’s where I got sober. And started Unsafe Space. And met my husband. And found God. It’s where I’ve made many memories with friends who have lived with me along the way: Jenn, Mandy, Tina. It’s not where I was raised, but it’s where I grew up.
It’s normal to mourn the loss of a home and a place that you have grown to love. It’s a relationship that is ending like any other. And for what good reason, because it marks a new chapter for my husband and me as we move into our new old house and can now afford to start fixing it up. Death of the old, birth of the new.
I started thinking about all of the miracles God has given me. My husband, who is always inspiring me. Tiger. My sobriety. A strong, wise and loving church family and preacher, that just so happen to be in my part of the world. A beautiful old home to fix up. Relatively good health. A wonderfully supportive and actually diverse Unsafe Space community. Many friends who are wiser, more talented, funnier or smarter than me. A gig job that is flexible and fun, with a boss I respect, that doesn’t require masks or coof tests or vaccines. The best friends you could have, as housemates. Living in the great state of Texas. My baptism. My salvation.
There are those still chasing worldly things who might look at my old life and not understand. Back then I made a lot more money, had a lot more “prestige,” and rubbed shoulders with those who white knuckled the coattails of “fame" (the coat of fame being as warm and valuable as the Emperor’s clothes). I shed those things a few years ago - and looking back now I can’t believe the loss of them ever frightened me at all. In the words of Paul, I now consider them all laughable dung.
“Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, And be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith.” Philippians 3:8-9
My cup is so full compared to where it was a few short years ago, but not by the world’s standards. Not by clinging and hoarding and storing things up. But through sacrifice and refocusing and walking through the fear of each small death into the new and unknown blessings on the other side.
Happy new year to you all! May you have many small deaths and miraculous births.
Happy New Year, Keri! Your article is beautifully written and inspiring. And that picture of you with your husband at the end made me smile to see all the love shining from your face.
Blessings to you Keri. Your journey encourages me in many ways. Seeing God's work in your life reinforces my belief in the power of the gospel and the grace and love of God. May God bless you in this new year.