Home on the Range - Move 2

Next month, Lord willing, we are moving to Texas.  During this long decision process we have reflected on the many moves we have made. Each of them have been testimonies to God’s mercy and faithfulness. They have been structural faith builders. Unmistakable evidence that the Lord has gone before us.  And right now, in the mess of moving, I need to revisit these stories. I share them with you to strengthen your faith in whatever place you may be at present. The Lord who fed the multitude with five loaves and two fishes said He will provide for you. 

“But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness,

and all these things will be added to you.”

Matthew 6:33

After four years in Dallas, Texas, we loaded up a U-haul and drove to northern California pulling our Honda Accord. Steve's parents planned to join up with us on the last leg of their motorhome trip and caravanned with us through Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. At one point, they turned toward San Diego and we headed north.

Hours later, when I saw the sign on the freeway, "Orland, next exit" I said, "I want to go home."

"Lois," said Steve, "we have no other home." We would call Orland home for the next 15 years, living in two different parsonages. 

Swift Ave, Orland CA 1985- 1991

Steve’s first pastorate was in a small ranching and dairy community in northern California’s big valley. We moved into the church’s parsonage. It was three steps from the back door of our home to the back door of the church. Our back yard was part of the church's paking lot.

Our living room was a Sunday school classroom.  Our front lawn was the front lawn of the church. Our front porch was one of the favorite hang out places after a service. And we loved it.  We hung two swings on the front porch to better facilitate the moms who came to sit there while their kids ran around the big oak tree. Two of our children were brought home from the hospital to what the church handy man called, “Lois's doll house.”  We enventuallyput up a fence in the backyard so our kids had a safe place to play.

We have so many wonderful memories in this house of birthday parties and holidays with both of our parents. We learned good rhythms of ministry and family time.  We learned how to find the truly good in the city to which we were called. 

Swift Ave, Orland, CA 1991-1998

And in God’s timing, Steve took the lead pastor position and we moved across the street to the other bigger parsonage the church owned. It felt like a mansion. Three more children came home from the hospital to live in this home - and everyone had space. The backyard had an above ground pool, the best and biggest swingset a kid could want and a sandbox that began the practice of building sandboxes wherever we moved from then on. There was a basketball hoop in the driveway that quickly became the new hangout for kids after church. Our neighbor across the alley let us garden in his raised beds. Along with Sunday school classes in the mornings, Summer Sunday night services took place in our living room. 

Parsonages have been around for a long time. They were usually built as a kindness to the pastor and his family. It meant that he did not have to worry about buying and selling a home when he moved. He didn’t have to worry about upkeep, maintenance and yard work. It was also helpful for the church body who often had more practical skills and physical provisions than financial surplus. 

We benefitted from all of the above. We knew the men who had been the head builders for both of the houses we were blessed to call home. We knew the men who cared for them. Hard working ranchers. Joyfully accepting their gift of a home opened up their hearts to us. Many were generous with the fruit of their labors. The best corn, tomatoes, zucchini, and watermelons would show up on our doorstep, or just inside our door because we never bothered to lock our front door -so many folks in the church and town already had a key to it! Living in the center of the community gave us a sense of history with the community. I learned hospitality and how to live with an open door welcome. 

Living next door to the church meant Steve’s commute was literally a hop, step and a jump away. He would come home for lunch every day. He was available for a quick, “I need help” phone call.  A baby monitor placed in the nursery could be heard from his office - from which also he could look down and see into the nursery window! I never felt “alone” when he was at a late night church meeting - he felt and was so near.

Being close to the church allowed me the privilege of serving alongside Steve in so many ways. It was easy to pop over to his office to check out a bulletin insert or letter he was composing. I could give him my input on church calendar schedules. I often was able to listen to him think through a passage of scripture or an argument in a theology book. Sometimes he would call me over to join him in a counseling session. 

This easy accessibility also had a down side. Steve was expected to turn on the heat or air conditioning on Sunday mornings. He was right next door - why should someone drive in early to do this?  We would get phone calls to check on items that were left here or there around the church. Multiple times a week someone driving up I-5 looking for a handout would knock on our door. People were stopping by all the time. There was not really a “day off.”  Forget about lounging in your pj’s any morning of the week or of walking out the door on Sunday without your home ready for visitors. 

Over time parsonages made less and less sense financially. Pastors were required to pay income tax on the rental value of the home. This was often not understood by the folks who put together the pastor’s salary. That home they built with free labor and often free supplies, now was worth enough to take a big bite out of a pastor’s pay check. The money a church was saving by having a parsonage meant that the pastor was not building up any equity or even good credit. 

All this did not matter those fifteen years we lived in the Swift parsonages. This was the Lord’s provision for us. He withholds no good thing. Our children have great memories of the homes, the town and the church. We made it a point to emphasize how good they had it. And they had it good. Church life was the center of our family’s life. The church family was our extended family.  We lived with an ever expanding view of what was outside of the four corners of our little home. We lived aware of our dependence on the Lord and His people. The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;

you hold my lot.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. Psalm 16:5,6

And this was very good.