He's Got The Moves Like Jagger

When God tells you "He's got the moves like Jagger", it deserves a blog.  Yes, yes it does. First off, I apologize for the one bad word you'll hear in this song.  I am not a swearing advocate, though I unfortunately have been known to let one loose occasionally when I feel, well, out of control. (More on that later). I can't find an edited version, and so, in order to preserve my story and show you that God can show up anywhere--even in a Maroon 5 song, here it is.

The last week has been a whirlwind, I tell you.  I would love to write all the details of just how crazy it has been, but I'll spare you.  Let's just say this:  Several months ago David tells me "I think God said we're going to move soon"---to which I so supportively responded, "Yeah, right. I'm pregnant." (P.S. This is not the appropriate way to respond when your husband says God told him something.) A few weeks later we found out that our next little love was a girl.  This set in stone to us that, well, David just must have heard wrong because the girls could share a room if a third baby came along in the not so distant future.  We decided to just resolve to stay put for the next who-knows-how-many years.  And then New Years came and went, and we decided to clean out all the cluttery junk in our house. I so egotistically wrote a blog saying how glad I was that God's plan had us moving before we had kids, and a dog, and two new car payments. Riiiiiight. Enter God stage Left.

David's riding home with his carpooling friends from work.  One of them lets David know that their friends are moving, and that, get this, we should buy their house.  It's just around the corner from our house currently, and it just happens to be twice as big with all the amenities we'd need for a growing family, as well as housing guests.  Not to mention, it would give us a bonus room and a studio for my creative endeavors. David looked at the house online but never told me (because I'm so supportive).  Well, it just so happens that in the matter of a week, two people ask me if we're moving. "No way! Totally not on our radar."  Well, then, David's friends remind him again of this lovely homestead.  He decides to tell me this time.  I, of course, react the same way.  And then after a light spanking from my Daddy's paddle, I decide..."Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should be more open to this in case it is God." So, I told David we should take a look at it and just see what might be. (This is the better way to respond to your husband.)

So, our sweet realtor, Stacey, meets us there on Saturday. And not only do we like it, but she also emails us several other houses in the area that are also a similar price.  All kinds of options we never even thought were available to us. Now mind you, we would not be thinking about upgrading except for two facts.  Interest rates are at an all time low, and my dad has offered part of my inheritance to me early.  As in right now.

I am feeling extremely blonde by this point.

How could I have been so stubborn and bullheaded? Oh, I know--because I hate being out of control. Even though I love the spontaneous, I still wanted my ducks in a row for the birth of this new one.  Last time, Ella's 5 days of laboring birth almost threw me into a nervous breakdown.  When I got my epidural, life was grand---and the rest was joy-filled.  Now that the next little one is on its way, I just assumed my ducks would line up for her perfect entry because I had already learned from the last time.  So, this whole "possible" moving escapade has sent me into a talespin that results in bad moods, snappy comebacks, the blame game, and everyone's favorite--severe victim mentality.  Not to mention, my brother calls me this morning and says "I had this dream about you that you should pray about. I never have dreams, so I needed to call you.  You were digging this big long metal bar out from under our house growing up (in real life, this is where my inheritance money is coming from).  Dad called me and said you died.  You slipped and got hit in the head. I ran over to try and figure out what happened." Well, thanks.

I realize that death in dreams does not necessarily represent dying in the natural, but it does often represent dying to self, to my will, to my desires, to my sense of control.  For me, moving is like one of the worst experiences ever. It reminds me of a time in my life where my stuff was physically thrown all over the place, I had no secure house that was "mine", and therefore, I felt displaced and totally out of it.  I hated it.

And now, as the prospect of trying to sell a house and buy a house and have a baby and take care of a toddler and her big dog all rise to the surface---I have officially freaked out.  I'll take my epidural now, please. (That last birth did teach me something.)

And yet, in the midst of this whole housing process, you know what God's been doing in my life? He's been having this pregnant lady dance--and teach dance.  Another word for dance? Movement or To Move.  In fact, He just had me dying laughing the other day over a youtube video of a 40 week pregnant gal dancing herself into labor.  Really, God?  You are just cracking yourself up right about now, aren't you? Just lining my ducks in a row the way YOU want them.

And then what does He tell me in the car today? As this song so coincidentally starts playing on the radio? "Hey Sarah, I've got the moves like Jagger. Chuckle. Chuckle. Chuckle."

Maybe it's hard
When you feel like you're broken and scarred
Nothing feels right
But when you're with me
I'll make you believe
That I've got the key

Oh
So get in the car
We can ride it
Wherever you want
Get inside it
And you want to steer
But I'm shifting gears
I'll take it from here (Oh! Yeah yeah!)
And it goes like this (Uh)





I mean, really, when God tells you He'll show you all the moves like Jagger, you'll laugh.  And then you'll start to relax--and remember Who really is in control.  And then comes the process of letting go...

Funny thing is, yesterday (previous to my brother's dream), I decided to google what the name Stacey means.  You know, this realtor who would be helping us move?  And you'll never believe what her name means--"Resurrection".  It ain't so bad dying when you know Who will bring you back to Life.

I'll keep you posted....