Between the move, the sharp adjustment of financial challenges we faced going from two incomes to one, welcoming a second child, accepting that child as one of the most colicky babies our friends and families had ever seen, and the surfacing of my own trauma in the form of postpartum depression, 2015 proved to be the darkest year of my life. I’ve often wondered, why would God move us when he did? If we weren’t going to acquire the farmhouse until 2020, why would God bring us here five years early, especially since it seemed like we moved only for me to walk through a dark valley? Remember, ten thousand things going on at once? Years later, while flying across the Atlantic to visit Val is where, I believe, he answered me.
January 2015 was just the start of discipleship with Ray and Val. Eric and I were discipled in their home on a regular basis for three years after that. But this wasn’t just a group of people who studied the Bible together. This was a 1 Thessalonians 2:8 passage in action. Because of my suffering, Val entered in. She wasn’t just a mentor; she became a friend. She didn’t just share the gospel with me, she patiently listened to me pour out my thoughts, which had been pent up and distorted for years. While 2015 was the perfect storm which seemed to wipe the feeble house I was, off its foundation, Val showed up faithfully to help me rebuild.
By 2018, when we welcomed our third child, Val’s attempts at sharing the gospel with me were finally starting to stick. While I had been a believer for several years, there were some basic truths that I didn’t really believe. Finally, I started to believe, and God’s word began to change me. Then, like everyone on the entire planet, every aspect of my life and faith were tested with the shutdown that started in March, 2020. Very few people were willing to meet in houses, so discipleship groups were almost nonexistent. Friendships were tested, as relationships were distanced and confronted with differences. And like many, we bought a house and moved. This time, we moved from our little house on York to the farmhouse in the country. Despite a host of challenges, our family was practically living the dream. God was moving mountains with mustard seed-sized faith. We offered what very little we had and he blessed us big time. He did this not because of anything we had done, but because he glorifies himself and sees us as trophies of his grace (Ephesians 2:7-10). If we had moved from St. Joe to Martinsville in 2020, I wouldn’t have been immediately transplanted into a discipleship group. I probably wouldn’t have even really developed much of a friendship with Val because 2020 was hardly the time for making friends. I would submit that more friendships were lost than made in 2020. But Val’s and my friendship endured five years and a walk through a dark valley. Despite fewer opportunities to meet, we still thrived. In fact, by 2024, our friendship grew even stronger.
12 Stones Farmhouse 