• Dana L. Butler

How God Moves Pieces into Place {and why I’ll be quiet a while}

My boy and I, we leave the house bright and early this morning to run my parents half an hour north to the Kansas City airport.

Their four days here went by far too quickly, punctuated by showing after showing. Five showings while they were in town, and six total in the last week.

All this, after averaging one showing every three weeks or so for months, and we’re looking around at all these giants turning to bread right and left. They’re looking less insurmountable by the day.

It’s one thing to stand in faith on God’s promises, and a whole ‘nother soul-dismantling experience to see them being fulfilled before our very eyes.

Are we under contract? Not yet. But very specific answers to prayers are streaming in while we stand back and watch, jaws hanging open.

I of course can’t share details just yet, but I’ll say this: Jesus is extravagant to us.

Meanwhile, our Maia bean up and takes off walking, spends the entire time my parents are in town finding her footing, growing noticeably more sure of herself by the day. She’s a blast to watch.

New words are finding their way through her 13-month-old lips every couple of days too, and I can’t help but draw parallels between her emerging and stabilizing and expanding sense of confidence — and my own.

We spend the week with my mom and dad flitting from park to mall to kid-friendly restaurant during showings, and Isaac has the sweetest interactions with his Gigi and Grandpa of possibly any chunk of time we’ve ever spent with them.

It’s a gift to watch your parents love your children, to watch that love be reciprocated. There’s nothing like it in the world.

We hit one of our favorite parks during our Wednesday afternoon showing and I find myself letting my mom push my kids in the swings, and jumping on a swing of my own. I swing — like, really swing — and the height and the wind in my hair {and the accompanying adrenaline rush} are soul medicine, along the lines of the water slide from last week’s pool adventure.


And through flurries of house cleaning and round after round of people through our home, our hearts quietly orbit this idea of cocooning.

Now that August has rolled around, I’m yet again coming face to face with my need for solitude. My yearning to be refilled in the secret place. It’s a theme that grabs my gaze over and over again as I read the words of kindred-hearted online friends. It’s a holy whisper that echoes inside me, ever closer to the surface.

I call my counselor this morning and leave her a message, belatedly letting her know that our contract fell through, that we’re still in town, and that I need to see her this week if possible, because this whole cocooning thing is pressing all my *fear of man* buttons.

My fear of disappointing people as we pull back and seek quiet spaces together as a family. My need for approval. And most especially, my fear of being misunderstood.


My chest aches and my stomach does flips as I consider the ways this solitude season has the potential to disappoint people I dearly love. As I weigh the likelihood that our hearts will be misunderstood.

The aching isn’t constant though; it’s intermittent, punctuated by hours at a time of this bubble of peace that cushions my insides.

And y’all, I’m so thankful. God’s hand is all over this season for us; His heart is turned toward us; He is not passive in our waiting.

And while we’re worn thin and lots of things feel unreasonably exhausting to us in this season, we’re encouraged as we see God moving hearts and pieces into place in our behalf — both circumstantially and in our cores.

He is to be trusted even when His hand can’t be fully seen, and it’s our heartbeat, our cry in this season — may we be found faithfully trusting, continually surrendering, deeply abiding in You through it all.


*I’ve avoided key details again, I know, and I’m publishing with very little editing, but I thank you for your gracious and prayerful receiving of the words I’m able to share here today.*

**I’ll be taking the remainder of August to be still and quiet. I’ll pop onto Facebook to announce any major news that comes up relative to the sale of our house {If you don’t follow my blog’s Facebook page and you’d like to, you can find it here}, but otherwise my social media channels will be pretty quiet. Please know you’re loved and thought of, and that I so deeply appreciate your walking beside our family in this season.**

***Sharing this post with my friends in Lisha and Kelli’s communities. So grateful for how you all embrace me in the midst of my story.***

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