Yesterday while cleaning for a house showing, I looked up the definition of faith in the big, fat Webster's dictionary on display in the living room. Faith, it was discovered, was pretty simply defined: unwavering belief.
This challenged my very soul; I know I waver, as this path to the sale of our home seems unending. We haven't officially set a wedding date because of it; we'd both prefer it sold before we wed. In this I have found myself held hostage; knowing my future happiness is bound up in an event of which I cannot make happen. All I can do is make certain the house is clean and presentable...being a two-story in a predominately 55+ area means we wait until the right buyer comes along. Pricing wise we are golden; we are now at the low end of the comps. (We could lower the price $100K and still have a wait - as it's still a two-story home in a 55+ area!) Yesterday, again, we had feedback that our home is gorgeous, and looked like a magazine spread. That the views were gorgeous, and why did we ever want to sell, it was breathtaking. The couple loved the home, and were going home to sleep on it. I've heard every bit of this before, time after time. In the past, we'd get a call a few days later that, in the end, the couple chose a single-story home for the practicality. It gets wearying, to know something you cannot change (it's a two-story) is the reason it hasn't sold...yet.
After I read the definition, I began to chew on the words, "unwavering belief." It seemed impossible to have "faith" as defined; at middle age it seemed I didn't have faith in much anymore. I began to go over things I did have faith in: my salvation, that God is good, John 10:10 perfectly sums up my theological beliefs, the fact I know marrying the Buckeye is exactly the best thing to do and that Ride Prescott will become a reality this summer. Those 5 things you can't shake me on...but everything else in life? I waver. A lot.
James chapter 1 is my favorite chapter in the Bible; I can quote nearly all of it and I know dang well verse 7 states that the one who wavers will not receive anything from God. Yet it seems as of late all I've done is look a the waves all around me, letting my circumstances toss my belief like a boat in a storm. I couldn't help but wonder is "waver" came from "wave" - certainly they seemed to go together! Waves do tend to toss you about - they have tremendous force at times - and suddenly I recalled a time I stood in them resolutely.
One year ago, I was able to indulge in my most favorite pastime: shark tooth hunting. My dear friend Kelly had introduced me to it nine years before; I'd only had the chance to partake a handful of times since. Trips to Florida are rare when you live in Arizona, so imagine my delight in two separate trips to the sunset coast last winter; both trips included time in the surf. Having no opportunity to return later if the ocean was stirred up, I entered the cold waves with no trepidation. I knew from experience it might be a good core workout, and the reward of ancient shark's teeth found was worth the discomfort of cold and strong currents. Despite the waves buffeting and the occasional strong push that almost sent me crashing to the sandy floor, I soldiered on in my hunt for treasure. The pure joy in finding the prize, no matter how small, was tremendous. My very soul was soothed as I stood in the Gulf; despite the physical demands of simply staying upright.
Quite simply, I would not be moved.
I remembered my introduction to the hunt; how Kelly and I worked as a team with the sieve, as her aunt shoveled sand into the tray. The waves were particularly strong that day; as we sifted through the results one of us was often knocked off a foot, and occasionally pushed over. All that was nothing as we'd find what we sought: the blackened ancient teeth of sharks of long ago. Most were no more the size of a fingernail, though on occasion we'd find one the size of a quarter. The next morning we rose early to squeeze in a few more hours of hunting before our flight home; it was colder and the waves stronger. None of that mattered as we sought the treasure: our focus was on what we might find, not the circumstances we found ourselves in. We were unwavering in our belief that there was treasure to be found. Nothing would dissuade us, not the cold, not the strength of the waves, not the occasional kissing of the ocean floor by an errant wave. We had a passion for the hunt, and faith we would not be disappointed.
A year ago inJanuary, I didn't have the equipment I needed; I didn't have a sand shovel and therefore couldn't dig as I had before, to find the treasure I sought. It was very cold in the water; standing waist deep wasn't an option. Still, I dug among the rocky shore, and scooped the wet sand with my hands. Although unprepared, I still found treasure; the very experience of being on that beach, with teeth in my hand, soothed my soul. My unwavering belief that there were teeth to be found outweighed the circumstances once again. It was there I decided to follow my heart's leading to grow Ride; to quit my town job and seek to make my company my sole source of income. Two months later I was able to spend several days on those beaches with my children, and have extremely productive days in the surf, pulling in treasure with every shovelful of sand. Standing deep in the calmer gulf I spent hours contentedly dealing with waves, wind and water...my circumstances secondary to the goal at hand.
Faith, it seems, is being more focused on the end result than the circumstances surrounding it.
Buoyed by the memories, I tried to think of something in my life were I actively chose NOT to be moved; I knew I chose to be unmoved in the waves while shark tooth hunting, but did it apply to emotions as well?
It did indeed.
Many moons ago, when first married to the Knight, I attempted to learn how to golf. How often then I left the course in tears, convinced I would never be able to hit the ball into the air, nevertheless enjoy the game! Shortly after my return from shark tooth hunting in January, I visited Topgolf for the first time. While hitting the ball was a challenge, I had good instruction...and my swing improved. Heartened, I returned solo to practice...and I improved some more. Inspired, I introduced my children to it; soon it became a destination. By summer I had confidence I might enjoy a game; the Buckeye tested this on my birthday. The utter joy in the successful swing made up for the whiffs; with little concern I signed up to be a Special Olympics golf partner/coach. Every Monday night my delight in my athlete's improvement did little to deter the fact my game wasn't improving; I simply loved the game of golf! No, I wasn't getting better...but I wasn't getting worse and it didn't frustrate me as it used to. I simply enjoyed the time with my partner, the time on the course and the fact that every time I stepped up to the tee, it was a new opportunity to hit a hole-in-one. I chose not to waver in my enjoyment of the sport...and it was a choice.
Faith is a choice.
Unwavering belief can be naturally produced, as it was in my relationship with the Buckeye. Every week we see further proof of how solid our relationship is; it deepens our faith that our marriage will be strong. My relationship with God and my faith in His Word has come from a lifetime of experiencing His goodness and faithfulness, and yet, so much of that was a choice. I chose to believe in my widowhood I would be OK. I chose to believe that despite my divorce, God still loved me and had good plans for me. I chose not to be moved at other times in my life, and have faith.
What makes this time so different? Why have I been unable to have unwavering belief, when the sickness and death of my first husband was much worse?
Because, for the first time in ages, I feel hostage to the circumstances. Instead of focusing on the reward, I'm looking only at the waves. Fear of not escaping has robbed me of the knowledge that this, too, shall pass. That these days will be but a memory in years to come. Thinking back on my days in the gulf, I don't remember the cold, the battle to keep my footing, the sore muscles the next day. My memory is of the prize: the dish full of shark's teeth I swirl with my finger on my desk. The happy memories the action evokes, and the soul-soothing those days brought. It's on the beach my heart sings, and I figure out the path before me.
Between 2009 and 2017, I had but one other hunt; a chilly November day in 2014. Again I didn't have the right equipment; again I didn't mind in the least. That time I was in capri's; my hunt was regulated to the water's edge. I found a half-dozen or so small pieces, the lack of treasure doing nothing to dampen my enthusiasm. I was at Caspersen, and I was finding teeth! As I meandered I prayed; the King and I had had a very difficult time since my sister's suicide in 2008. My sorrows seemed lighter as I continued my search, and as the sun peaked through the gray clouds I had to sing. How great was our God, to provide such a treasure hunt that soothed my soul. My spirit lifted as I delighted in my private time; not a soul was around due to the inclement weather. Every tooth I found resulted in a shout of glee and spontaneous praises; as the hour approached when I'd have to return, I was delighted with my tiny hoard of a dozen 1/4" long teeth. They'd mix well with the others on the dish on my desk; I made plans to bring my children to this spot to join me. As I headed back to the meeting spot I knelt one more time to hunt; imagine my delight in pulling out a 1 1/2" perfectly preserved tooth! Squealing, I immediately thanked God; I may have skipped over the dunes to the parking lot. Seeing I had the time, I decided to walk down to the restrooms for a break; walking towards me was a family coming from the beach. We stopped to chat; they were from England and here only for the morning. We chatted about shark's teeth; they had come hoping to find some and had been disappointed in their search. Now out of time, they questioned if indeed there were teeth to be had. Excitedly, I showed them my tiny haul; explaining that some days and seasons were simply better than others. Instead of being dejected that they had come up empty-handed, they showed true excitement to see the treasure...and I knew. Pulling the largest tooth out of my ziplock bag, I handed it to the boy. While I would return to this beach in the future, it was unlikely he would. I gave him my treasure, knowing he would cherish it that day (as to the future? That wasn't my concern. I was responsible only for my actions in that moment.) You see, I had faith I would return and find more.
In the last three weeks, I've had my car transmission go out, rodents cause $700 in damage to the engine and we hit a coyote. Our neighbors called the county over our lights, and the county has asked for a $1900 replacement with a $750 fine if we don't comply. The King's mother died, and my father has struggled with his health. We've had almost $3000 in repairs needed on our three carts in Scottsdale...and last Wednesday? The hot water heater died, and leaked; damaging the area around it. It's a week later, and we still don't have hot water; spending most of last week with no water (the brand new one goes in this afternoon, after a comedy of errors...we didn't have a regular one to replace, but a special order, custom one. The good news? It's an awesome bonus for the new buyer!). The arguments between the King and I depleted my emotional reserves. The waves have been strong, and I've been tumbled in the surf. To top it off? The Princess was given airline tickets on a local airline to fly to Disneyland for her 16th birthday in a few weeks...and on Monday, that airline went out of business! The circumstances have mounted as walls surrounding me, and its tempting to just give in. To give up. To walk away and accept defeat. To file bankruptcy and call it a day. To close Ride, to give in to failure.
And then I think of finding the large shark's tooth, on a gray day in November.
Of the joy of the hunt, of my very soul being soothed.
Not once, not twice, but everytime I looked for treasure.
Every time I had unwavering belief.
Of singing "Best Song Ever" by One Direction while skipping on the greens at TPC with Dove, my Special Olympics athlete, and the joy she was becoming a better golfer than I. Of the pure joy and fun when we go to Topgolf, always as a family, and enjoy the hours together. Of the deep contentment of golfing with the Buckeye, knowing it is a sport we will enjoy together for years to come.
I chose to have unwavering belief that my home will sell; faith that it will happen before the threat of financial ruin. That I will be able to soon pay off all the debt from the remodel, and that the King and I will finally both be able to separately establish happy homes for our children. That I'll be marrying the Buckeye unencumbered, surrounded by the pines in the state we both love.
I chose to have faith.
And that's my final answer.
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