Finding Refuge in My Father's House

I'm sitting in the living room of my father's home, pondering this life.  The children and I have been here for a week, and it has been a welcome reprieve from the pressures/stresses/frustrations of the same-old, same-old mess. 

I thank God for the various gigs He provided for me in the last two months - they've enabled me to purchase the necessary summer items for the kids as well as the money for our trip needs.  Yet it is beyond maddening that there is no additional income coming in while he waits for an offer.  The waiting time in previous years lasted 19 months and  this current one is coming up on two and a half years.  Out of eleven and a half years, seven have been with steady employment with benefits.  The rest of the time...living below the poverty level.  I've worked very hard to shield my children from the underside of this level of living, BUT I can hardly stomach that they've been exposed to this when it is a matter of continual bad choices versus necessity that's dictated the circumstances.  I guess that people revert back to what is familiar and comfortable to them.  The kind of lifestyle my former spouse and his family members seem comfortable living is opposite to what I find appealing and acceptable.  For example,we lived for a year in his sister's house where the front door was inaccessible and the main bathroom didn't function.  To gain entrance, you had to go around to the back door or down concrete stairs to the basement. To shower or use the facilities, we had to go all the way to the basement, two floors down from the bedrooms.

My father would never let things like that linger - he is a man of action who takes care of things immediately.  And in his home, I feel taken care of and that our needs are met.  I feel safe and secure.  Untroubled for now. 

I don't know how the next few months will unfold and what the future looks like.  I am trusting God to slowly fill in the picture and direct me.  That my kids and I will live in a peaceful, tidy home. Stable. Secure.

 

No cursing, yelling neighbors. No more dysfunctional bathrooms and gross kitchen cabinets you wouldn't put food or dishes in.  No more welfare and rude cashiers who rub your face in it when you present your food stamps card.  No more tolerating poverty and barely enough. No more messy, careless living.  Not for me and for my children.  ^"I will say of the Lord, He is my Refuge and my Fortress, my God; on Him I lean and rely, and in Him I [confidently] trust!" Psalm 91:2