The stuff dreams are made of

Published 4:47 pm Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Stuff…most of us, myself included, like our “stuff.” A lot of the possessions we hang onto so tightly are pretty useless in the big scheme of things, and if we could just see clearly may actually take precious time away from the more important events in life.

Moving from our beautiful dream home in the country has brought me to tears on more than one occasion. I picked every color and every stick of furniture to coordinate perfectly. The outdoor covered patio complete with fireplace turned out exactly as planned — absolutely gorgeous. Yet something deep in my spirit told me selling it and moving was the right thing to do. My innate love of beauty, however, made me wonder if I was mistaken. Many times during these past few weeks I simply prayed, “God if this is right just make everything work out.”

Mike and I actually found another lovely home in a country subdivision. It was about half the size of the home we are selling, but new and beautiful. It was, however, off the beaten path and just as far away from the kids. We decided to buy it anyway and use the more modest home in town that we had recently purchased for a rental.

It seemed like the thing to do, but something down deep felt uneasy every time I thought about it. Really wanting to purchase this lovely home but having an unsettled feeling left us but one choice. This time we prayed together, “God if this isn’t the right thing, then throw a monkey wrench in it.” Several monkey wrenches later, Mike and I knew the lovely new home just wasn’t the place for us.

“Well,” I mused, “the house in town where we will be moving certainly isn’t my dream home, but it seems to be what is working out for us. I have followed what I wanted to do ignoring a lack of peace enough times to know that this is never a good idea. I also know that our Heavenly Father does indeed know what’s best for us.”

With the move almost under our belts the whole family feels such a sense of peace that we know it was the right thing. The toys scattered about on the rug beneath my feet give evidence to the little boy who has slept over. Gauge, that precocious 4-year-old grandson of ours, decided we need a vegetable garden in the front flowerbed, and we are busily planning it. I may sneak in a flower or two between the veggies.

Manny, our youngest son, stopped over yesterday and spent the night as he traveled back from an engagement party in Oxford. Our eldest son and his darling wife, Robby and Cherrie, brought pizza over. This, along with the goodies Manny brought from an awesome Oxford bakery, filled our paper plates as well as our bellies.

Cherrie sat cross-legged on the floor while Gauge ran to and fro, showing off his karate moves between bites. Everyone spoke at once, and peals of laughter rang through the little house. This, my friends, is the stuff dreams are made of.

Jan Penton Miller can be reached at