I live on Knollview Street.
A few weeks ago, my husband was in Arizona so I spent some time alone in the house. I actually enjoyed the quiet. Don’t misunderstand that- the house was not quiet because Max was not there to talk; the house was quiet because Max was not there for me to talk to and share every passing thought with. Things like “My knee feels weird.”
During those couple days, I spent some time reflecting. I wanted to post then, but announcing I was home alone and also announcing the name of my street seemed didn’t seem like the smartest idea and Max would have probably made me delete it since he knows I tend to forget to lock the doors.
Anyways, I love the view from Knollview Street. We look out a big open window in our living room and see these beautiful old trees that give the neighborhood so much charm and character.
But the view from Knollview Street is so much more than willowing trees and colorful houses.
From this place, I can also see the path that I have walked before, and the ways God saved me without me even knowing.
From here, I see that the “No’s” of this life were by far the greatest blessings ever given to me.
From here I see those moments where I was so heartbroken I was laying on the floor, weeping over what I thought I wanted at the time.
From here I see my little one bedroom apartment, where I learned some of the hardest lessons.
From here I see God’s hand in my life, growing me, stretching me, pushing me, challenging me as I surrendered my life and my will over to Him.
Knollview Street is the view of God’s faithfulness and God’s redemption of me.
There are two pumpkins sitting on my porch because last week I called Max frantically because I was the worst housewife ever and didn’t have ONE SINGLE FALL DECORATION OUT. On his way home from work, he went to the store and bought us two perfect pumpkins and placed them on our front porch. I cried.
I watched him last night as he started to brush his teeth and then grabbed my tooth brush and put toothpaste on it and handed it to me. It’s the tiny moments like that that totally overwhelm me with gratitude.
Years ago, I thought I knew what I wanted. In the middle of my brokenness, my dysfunction and my stubbornness, God told me “no” over and over again. I thought it was the end of everything, but little did I know my story had just began.
This view is not beautiful because it wasn’t painful. On the contrary, sometimes I think I chose one of the most painful paths to get to where I am now.
Through every mistake, every time I clung to the steering wheel of my life with white knuckles, refusing to let go of what I needed to, God was faithful in His redemption story.
He should have handed me over to my sin and what I thought I wanted. He didn’t have to patiently pursue me, pull me from my pit or continue to bless me even after I chose my own way.
God saw Knollview Street when I didn’t. He saw my godly husband brewing my French Press coffee every morning and bringing it to my bed. God saw me leading high school groups alongside him at church.
He saw me whole, when I thought staying in my brokenness was the only way to get what I desired most.
I’m not sure what your current view is, but I bet if you look hard enough, you too can see the hand of God working in your life. Even through the pain, even through the questions, looking back on God’s faithfulness is always the right view.
And if right now, right this very second, you are in the midst of a “Season of No” – don’t lose hope.
If it feels like your dreams and your desires will never come to be. If it feels like all you can see is closed door after closed door, hold on to the faithfulness of God when you have nothing else to hold on to.
Last night, my husband and I bought a big bag of candy to pass out to trick-or-treaters on our first Halloween together. We will eat half of it and feel terrible about ourselves and probably do the same thing for the next 20 years.
The view might not always be from Knollview Street. It might be from Main Street or Washington Ave. or Cherry Creek Lane. But it will never not be beautiful, and every time I sit with a cup of coffee staring out the window, I hope I remember that.
**Two and a half years ago, I wrote the post Apartment 4 if you want to see more details of how God has been faithful.