I spent the first five months in Virginia living in a hotel. It was one of those extended stay hotels with a kitchenette and living room. It was within walking distance of Walmart and surrounded by other major grocery stores, convenience stores, department stores, and restaurants.
God had told me not to attempt to move into an apartment yet,
but to rest in the hotel. I wasn’t sure why, but I obeyed.
Obedience wasn’t difficult. I didn’t have much money left
over after I paid my hotel rent, anyways. Once I bought food and a bus pass, I
barely had any money left. Especially not to save for a deposit and first
month’s rent for an apartment.
It wasn’t terrible living in the hotel. Other than the thin
walls and the rude, thieving staff, the hotel was fairly comfortable.
There were many people who had made their home there. Though
I didn’t necessarily want to be one of them, I didn’t have much room to
complain. I had a warm bed. I was able to cook nutritious meals. I had privacy
and a place to come in out of the rain.
It wasn’t ideal. But it was my temporary home, and I was
thankful.
Within just a few weeks of moving to Virginia, just as I was
getting comfortable in the hotel, my mother passed away. I knew she was sick before
I moved. But, I was optimistic. I didn’t believe her sickness would end in death.
So, I had to check out of the hotel and go back to Florida.
I ended up staying in Florida for a couple of weeks and returned to Virginia
right before I started my new job.
I tried to continue with life as usual.
I checked back into
the hotel. I continued to go to school. I started a new job. I even picked up a
new man.
I thought that I could push my way through the loss of my
mother.
I don’t usually take death as hard as some people do. I have
an understanding about it. Death is a part of life and we will all have to experience
it someday. I honestly thought that I could handle my mother’s death, too.
I was wrong.
It became increasingly difficult for me to focus and
concentrate. I started falling behind in school and ended up withdrawing. I
found myself crying at the bus stop or at my desk at work. I was sad and fatigued
and all I wanted to do was sleep and talk to my boyfriend on the phone.
It shocked me!
I had such a hard time dealing with it. There was something
missing after my mother died. I felt as if a piece of me had gone along with her.
So, there I was, by myself in Virginia, feeling more alone than ever.
And things would get worse. (I will share...)
I began to doubt my move. I began to wonder if I had heard
God wrong. Or if I had heard Him at all. What if I had made a mistake?
I prayed and cried out about it. “God, what’s going on?!” “Why
is this happening to me?!” I was ready to turn around and go back to Florida
when God assured me that I was on the right track.
I was moved for a reason. I was isolated for a reason. I was
being broken for a reason.
I was encouraged by God to stay put and not give up.
If we give up every time our circumstances get hard, we’ll
never get anything accomplished. We’ll never grow and mature. We’ll never get
anywhere in life.
So, I obeyed, and I stayed – there in the pain and difficulty.
But God didn’t stop there. There would be more obeying for
me to do.
