I’d waited a long time for an answer to my prayer. It felt like forever. This spring I was sooo ready to move on and it looked like my prayers were finally going to be answered. Somehow our six-month foray into townhouse living had turned into six years and in my mind, seven was the magic number. The SCRIPTURAL number. Surely God would open the door for us to move this summer, if not sooner.
I reeled at the delay. It felt like we were running out of time.
Last night as I scrolled through Facebook, I noticed a post by a marketing expert I used to follow; this was the caption: