Instantaneous midlife crisis, and the reply thereto

So, the other day, Whitney and I found ourselves at the UK Arboretum enjoying one another's company and remarking on how little clothing 18-22 year olds wear while exercising.  As part of our walk, we discussed the next step in our lives.

You see, the last 5 years hasn't been all roses for us.  It's only in the past 8 months that I've gotten my head screwed-on straight about my faith, my place in this world, and my attitude towards life.  If you read enough of this blog, you can chart my up and downs like a sine wave, especially when I was 25->30.  Sometimes, I've been there for my family; other times, I've hidden at work or in my own destructive pursuits, leaving Whitney to be a single parent to 1, then 2, now 3 children.

I'd like to say all that's past now, and for 8 months this week, it has been.  Here on out, it's one day at a time of integrity.

The above is a long way of saying, my wife and I are in a really good place right now, praise God. 

So, on our walk we talked next steps, and the next step for us is moving.  The recent tornadoes have convinced us that we need a basement, and we'd like to get into a place with more room, better overall layout, and more opportunities for the kids.   All well and good, then Whitney said innocently, "You know, I really think this next house could be our last house."

And then I freaked out.  Insight into my thought process:

Last house?!  LAST HOUSE?!  Okay, that's it...pack it in.  I'm dead.  I can see the top of the mountain, and it's all downhill after that.  I'm going to work, chase after my kids, and pay bills for the rest of my existence until I die.  Is this it?!  There's so much I haven't done, and probably won't do: Tour Europe, see the great places, have those sports cars I always wanted, take a motorcycle tour through the Southwest.

To put it in nerd terms, I flushed my entire "bucket list" cache in the 25 yards after Whitney said "last house".   It stuck with me through the rest of our date, and while I mowed our 4" high front yard once I got home.  As I emptied the last bag, took a pause, looked up at the sky and just prayed, "God, is this really all there is to life?"

The answer was immediate and straight to the point:

"No.  That's not all there is.  That's the LIE that the enemy wants you to believe, that possessions and experiences are what makes life worth living.  If he can keep you believing that, he knows you're no good to Me.  I have a future plan for you.  Remember, I gave up my only Son for you, that I love you that much.  Yes, YOU.  Stop worrying."

I took a deep breath in, felt the crisis ebb, and went inside.

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