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Unanswered Prayers

Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. —Mark 11:24 ESV

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God didn’t always answer my prayers.

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And I am ever so grateful for that. To ask God to disrupt our lives, our comfort, our dreams, and especially our prayers is radical. It requires a giant leap of faith and unwavering trust. A leap of faith that never fails. A trust like no other.

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March 2016

We live on a vineyard in the rolling hills of central California. This is wine country. When people come to visit, they call it paradise. And in some ways it is—paradise. Our Mediterranean style home is perched atop a prominent hill visible from miles around. Newspaper articles have referred to it as the white house on the hill.

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Massive windows and numerous French doors reveal stunning 360° views which stretch as far as the eye can see. Elegant, Cabernet grape-vines wind their way up to the foot of our home and sprawl down into valleys and out of sight. Decks and balconies provide vistas much like that of a Tuscan villa. Classic, mission olive trees, aromatic lavender, and perpetually blooming rosemary hedges set the backdrop of this enchanted setting. Upon waking, the first glance through our bedroom windows is that of neighboring ranches dotted with a variable patchwork of vineyards and once vibrant almond orchards. This is El Paso de Robles.

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We’re moving to Nebraska.

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Disturb us, Lord, when we are too pleased with ourselves, when our dreams have come true because we dreamed too little, when we arrived safely because we sailed too close to the shore. (Excerpted from: The Prayer of Sir Francis Drake)

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Now, I wouldn’t say we’ve dreamed too little nor sailed even remotely close to the shore—quite the opposite—but the Lord has disturbed us for certain, our lives and our comfort. Although He answered our prayers, (well sort of) how does one respond to such a dynamic shift? We are actually giving up this seeming paradise for the unknown.

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At a recent writer’s conference, my new friend, Shontell, randomly mentioned during a coffee break that she had lived in Nebraska. Coincidently, my husband Rob and I were flying to Lincoln, Nebraska in less than thirty-six hours from that very moment so that I could meet his potential management and get glimpse of our prospective new home-town. When I asked her what Nebraska was like she replied, “Oh, it’s nothing but corn and cows.” I started to cry.

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Great, we’re moving from romantic wine and cheese country to flat plains of nothing but corn and cows.

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Uncharted Territory

We were unexpectedly excited after that first three day visit to Lincoln—ready to pick up stakes and move to Nebraska, to uncharted territory, at least uncharted for us. It sounds crazy but it’s true. Life on the vineyard has been good, very good, but it’s been hard at times too. The romantic vision of leisurely strolling the vineyards, stomping grapes, and sipping wine under café strung-lights at twilight is what everyone envisions. At times we did all of that, but this is agriculture and it’s is not for the faint-hearted. We have a new found respect for farmers to say the least. Late frost, pests, improper bud set, a four year drought (still ongoing), and major economic downturn has resulted in less than romantic times. And the well literally ran dry—twice.

 

“Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.”   —Psalm 62:8 

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