The Move
By Enid Ning
I stared at him, stunned. “What did you say?”
“I want to sell the townhouse,” repeated my new husband Henry one evening after we’d been married for less than two months.
Time stood still as I tried to wrap my uncomprehending mind around this completely unexpected announcement. Sell the townhouse? I just got here! I’m so happy here! Why would I want to move?!
“Well, I don’t want to,” I stated flatly. “I like it here. I don’t want to move.”
It was true. On our wedding day, Henry had married one burned-out bride! I had been jetting around the Southern Hemisphere right up to three weeks before our wedding, Arriving home exhausted, I’d endured the stress of returning home, getting married, and moving into somewhere new. I’d spent part of the past month (or month and a half) adapting to Henry and re-arranging his ”bachelor pad” to my liking. The vast majority of my newfound time, however, was spent in catching up on lost sleep! I slept in until 1:00 p.m. every day. I enjoyed the quiet when I awoke. There were no demands, no staff, no students, no programmes to oversee, no insurmountable problems… just quiet, solitude, peace. I liked the size of the little place. It was “clean-able,” unlike my father’s sprawling ranch-style house in the next city. In fact, I found I was happier here in this little townhouse with Henry than I had ever been in my life. I didn’t want to change anything!
Henry enumerated for me all his perfectly logical reasons for selling the townhouse: the windows were drafty, the furnace inefficient. The next-door neighbour played music with a booming bass-line and enjoyed his new jacuzzi (which seemed to be directly adjoined to our master bedroom) late into the night; both activities irritated Henry greatly.
But I refused to budge. I had never been happier in my life, and there was no way I wanted to move.
Finally at an impasse, we decided it was time to ask God for help. I assured Henry that, after all my experiences with God, if He were to tell me we should move, I would go for it.
We prayed and asked, and waited. With the quiet rhythm of our breathing in background, His still, small voice spoke to my heart, quoting Philippians 4:11: I’ve learned to be content in any and every circumstance. Then, even more quietly, He nudged me: Enid, you were content living in a tiny, plywood cabin in Tonga. You can be content wherever I send you, even now.
I knew it was Him. “Yes, Lord, You’re right. I can. I’m sorry, Lord. I’ll listen to Henry.”
I looked up at Henry. “Alright, we can move.”
Henry’s face lit up with joy and relief.
The townhouse sold in two weeks.
* * * * *
Epilogue:
Seven years later, I write this story from the beautiful three-bedroom, detached, California-style brick house which we bought with the money received from the sale of the townhouse. It’s difficult not to be content here!
The real estate agent who handled the sale of our townhouse, Margaret Brown, became a Christian and now attends Bayview Glen Church here in Toronto. Her husband, Doug, who recently passed away, also accepted Christ before he died.
As usual, God has once again given far more than I could have asked or imagined. And once again, He has proven to me that I can trust Him. The safest place for me to be is in the centre of God’s Will. How do I get there? Asking, listening, waiting, obeying. That’s all.