A moving dilemma - Part Two

  

A man plans his ways but the Lord directs his steps   Proverbs 16:9 

Once again I have changed all the names except that of Pastor Gerald Rowlands.

 

So … I was moving to Nambour, hoping to have a small farm to grow vegetables AND I’d have Ps Gerald Rowlands as my pastor, but we had yet to find our elusive house. I was returning to the region I loved. I was excited, too, that God had so clearly directed me to live there.

But we needed a house to live in.

 

Sue and I scrutinised the papers and rang estate agents. There was nothing. I began to wonder if I’d misunderstood God’s leadings.

 

Again, Anne came to the rescue. The phone rang early one cold morning. I huddled in the hallway in my dressing gown, as Anne bubbled,

‘Nettie, I’ve found your house!’

She described it – an old Queenslander set in the hills outside Nambour. Plenty of room. A lovely outlook. It sounded perfect.

I arranged to go and stay with Sue, on the Carsons’ farm. Angie Carson was a kind, hospitable lady who made me feel at home on their property.

After a good night’s sleep, we all set out to see The House. We wound our way between waving, rustling banks of sugar cane and up into the hills.

 

The house in the hills

There it was! A delightful old home, newly painted, high on a ridge overlooking a valley of cane. We looked through the rooms. A tight squeeze but we could manage.

As we wandered around the yard, I tried to ignore a sense of desolation. There was not another house in sight.

‘Jeanette,’ Sue said, ‘I’ll be out a lot with Laurel at school. Wouldn’t you feel too isolated up here by yourself?’

I paused. It was true. I’d be lonely here. Even with my veggie garden, the view and my visitors, there would be times when being so alone might be … scary.

‘God will have something more suitable,’ Angie assured us.

‘But it felt ideal. And there’s nothing else at all,’ I argued.

She shrugged.

 

Death of a dream

I was disappointed. I’d come all this way to see what I thought was my dream home. Now my farm-in the-country dreams lay in shreds.

We drove home in gloomy silence.

‘It wouldn’t have worked,’ Sue said as we arrived back at Carsons’ farm. ‘It’s too far out.’

Oh dear. I really must have misunderstood God’s leadings. My mood plummeted.

As we arrived home, Angie said, ‘Oh! What’s this?’ She picked up a plate of home-baked biscuits and a note. We listened as she read it aloud.

‘Hi Angie, did you know we’re moving from our house in Coes Creek Road in a few days? We wondered if Sue and her friend would like to move in.

Love, Carol.’

‘This might be our answer,’ Angie said. ‘It’s a lovely house and there’s a big backyard.’

‘No,’ Sue protested. ‘It’s in suburbia. We want to live in the country.’

‘Well, let’s go and have a look at the house anyway.’ Angie made us a cup of tea and we hungrily devoured the biscuits.

She headed back to the car and we followed reluctantly.

 

The Nambour house

 

Carol’s house was a typical Queensland house – high-set timber with a pretty garden. Carol showed us around the house. The main bedroom was huge! Big enough for me and my desk and the rest of my paraphernalia. Every single room had a wonderful view. Views of the backyard with a swing for Laurel and a huge jacaranda tree beside the back fence. Views out across a vibrant green oval to trees clustering at the creek. The dining room looked out towards Mt Ninderry, its rocky escarpment gleaming silver-grey in the slanting sun.

 

There was even an outdoor area with a concrete seat, ideal for having lunch on fine days. And plenty of room to grow veggies.

Sue groaned, then laughed. ‘It’s just what we need, really. So much for living in the bush.  And this is so close to town and everyone else.’

 

I returned to Brisbane to pack. Anne’s phone call had been God’s stepping stone.

I all but forgot my dream of living in the country and growing veggies as I became part of life in Nambour. Instead of having a little farm, I grew flowers and herbs while I taught speech and drama. In fact, I studied and received my Trinity teaching letters in my first year there. 

I loved the house. It was just right - much better than I'd expected. God knew best! 

I also made a lot of great new friends. 

I wrote my first proper book, Jodie’s Story, which was published soon after.

Best of all, I drank deeply of the Holy Spirit as I sat under Pastor Gerald Rowlands’ ministry and was happy and fulfilled. Perhaps that’s why my gifts flourished to the extent they did in Nambour.