The Flog – The Fabry Log

When I was in Denver, I had an experience I’ll never forget. A man I had never met heard our story of loss and illness and the road we’ve been on to recovery, and he was so touched by all we’d been through that he just shook his head and said, “Oh Chris…” It felt like he took several pounds from me. I gave him Andrea’s number and he called her the next day and related some of the things he told me.

“God is honoring you by giving you this trial,” he said.

It doesn’t feel like an honor, but I know he is right. His words rang true.

When we parted, he put his hand on my shoulder and prayed. With passion he asked God to give us a larger house for our needs. He asked God to give us laughter. Those are the two things I remember most.

Yesterday, we signed a lease on a house that has never been lived in. We met the builder on the day we walked through it. If he sold it now, he would lose about 50K. We’re going to rent it for a year while the court proceedings continue for our house in Colorado.

This new home is gorgeous and sits on about an acre of land. Four bedrooms—but as we count bedrooms, it has six. All electric. No pesticides have been sprayed outside on the landscaping. There is carpet in the home, but since it’s never been lived in, we’re not as concerned about reacting to it. Our lease is up at the present house on August 16, so this is perfect timing.

Last night we had some friends over. They played games with us. Scattergories and “Signs,” an acting game Ryan taught us. We laughed a lot. We laughed about eight of us sleeping in one bedroom. We laughed about the silly answers Andrea gave during the game. We laughed about how competitive men are and how agonizingly smart women are. The point is, we laughed.

For everything there is a season. A time to laugh and a time to cry. A time to pray and a time to wait. A time to move and a time to cancel the electricity. A time to escape to the desert and a time to give thanks. We are grateful for those who have put their hands on our shoulders and prayed, near and from a distance.

We’re not there yet. We have not arrived. But we’re still putting one foot in front of the other. We’re still trying. And sometimes amidst the tears and heartache, there is laughter.