considering lilies.

When Chris accepted the job at Washington State, we decided to buy a house. We were waiting, because if his job was not in a place we could see ourselves staying long-term, if it was a "starter" job, we wouldn't take the plunge yet. But he got the perfect job at a great school in a great place, so we decided to buy a house. Eight years of marriage and three kids in a small two-bedroom townhouse have me aching for a place that fits our family. We got the job so early in the grand scheme of things, it left a lot of time for waiting and wondering and planning. Finally, we got close enough to start the ball rolling. We got pre-approved for a loan, we found a realtor, we started looking online. This has all taken place over the last several months, the waiting and planning and thinking . . . and worrying. As numbers started coming together something became very apparent: Pullman wasn't nearly as price-friendly as I was hoping. It is no Michigan or Texas or Idaho. Our options were looking limited and my very small very basic list of "wants" was looking like it couldn't be met. I began to become a bit disheartened. I clung to hope and clung to faith. Buying a home for our family within our means was a righteous desire. I remember sweeping one day and feeling so overwhelmed. I thought in frustration I just want enough! And that voice, the voice that answers my worries with it's ever-omniscient one-liners reminded me: You have always had enough. We have full tummies and warm beds and coats on our backs and shoes on our feet. We have always had enough.

One February night as I was stressing over houses, Chris told me, "It is like that scripture. Consider the lilies. Heavenly Father will take care of us." I listened to him the way a stressed person listens: my heart believed by my head stood firm in misery. A few days later I was doing my personal scripture study. Our stake presidency had asked us to read the 4 gospels, and I just happened to be in Matthew 6: "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow," the Savior says. "Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field . . . shall he not much more cloth you, O ye of little faith." The Spirit spoke and tears sprung to my eyes. If God will take care of the little things, then maybe me and my little family and my desire for a home would make the cut.

But you know me. The worry continued. Luckily, Heavenly Father didn't give up. Third time is the charm, right? That weekend Chris and I went to the temple. I sat in the room waiting for the session to start and in my head, as loudly as if I was listening to a stereo, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (and perhaps some of my mother, as I've heard her sing this song on numerous occasions) sang "Consider the Lilies." It is such a beautiful song. And it played in my head the whole session. When I got to the Celestial Room, I went straight for one of those beautiful white Bibles and opened to Matthew 6. I read the words again, but this time it was burned into my heart.

"Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?"

The Greek translation explains "take no thought" means "anxious concern". In other words: don't stress out so much. But this was my favorite: Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Doesn't life mean so much more than what house you live in? Isn't a nice safe clean functioning house a blessing, regardless of the year it was built or the curb appeal or the kitchen cabinets? Happiness can be found in any home. I spent a significant part of my childhood living in a smaller "older" home. I have the very best memories in that house. It was my home, and I was safe and happy there.

"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. Wherefore if God so clothe the grass of the field . . . shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?"

Just in case I didn't catch it the first two times. But how about that "O ye of little faith"? That was for me.

"Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? . . . for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things."

And I welcomed the tears. I welcomed the Spirit burning in my chest. I welcomed the evidence of a loving God. For your Heavenly Father knoweth ye have need of all these things. He knows what we need. What we need. And while sometimes it is in ways we don't expect, He takes care of us when all is said and done.

"But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you."

We went to Pullman at the end of May. Our house hunting adventures will be coming to a blog post near you soon; I know you'll be waiting on the edge of your seats. We pulled up the the last house on our first day. It was a house I had written off, a house our realtor said she really thought we should see, but I was just filling time. But when I saw it something jumped in my chest. After our offer was accepted, we scheduled a second showing, a longer one that would allow us to spend some time in the house and take measurements, since we would not be at the inspection. When the time came to leave, I didn't want to go. It was our home. I could see our kids running down the hall from their bedroom, excited for Saturday morning pancakes. I could see family movie nights in the basement. I could see soccer games in the backyard. I could see after-school snacks at the counter. I sat alone on the living room floor, filled with gratitude, while Chris chatted with our realtor, and a song came to my mind.

Consider the lilies of the field

How they grow, how they grow

Consider the birds in the sky

How they fly, how they fly

He clothes the lilies of the field

He feeds the birds in the sky

And He will feed those who trust Him,

And guide them with His eye.