What Does the Favor of the Lord Look Like?

I’ve recently moved to the woods, a quiet environment I cherish. Clearly, I am but a visitor in this forest and am reminded every day I step outside—and I love that. The house is cabin-y and cozy, a setting I’ve dreamed about and value. Before moving in, I hung my mezuzahs and dedicated this place to the Lord. No matter what, I would not grumble or complain about this dwelling. I’ll be thanking God.
 
Then stuff happened.
 
I really felt targeted by the enemy. The list was huge of all the things that went wrong all at once within a two-week span, and I was overwhelmed. The move was hard enough. I’ve moved often in life, but this was the mother bear. It was the proverbial Murphy's Quantum Law, and I regret turning down earlier offers of help in certain areas because of not wanting to inconvenience anyone. *sigh* I need to learn this lesson. I do NOT want to be a DIYer for life.
 
Anyway, many things in the house weren’t working properly or simply broke at first touch or had to be replaced immediately. I won’t use up the blog space naming every item, but among them were some pretty big things, major things, such as equipment pertaining to the well that still gave water, but it was unpalatable and didn’t look too good either. Never mind the inconvenience of not having easy access to decent water, the cost of the repair was ginormous. The cost of everything has been huge.
 
Here are a few other transpired events I’ll quickly highlight: a dead freezer, messed up house wiring, a shocking mouse infestation (in this, though, my cat Dreidel went to work right away and was most helpful). The dog I’d had for 16 years died. The horse I’m still eager to transport developed an unroadworthy infection. My son’s car broke down. I’m just saying troubles felt like an unexpected punch left and right, every moment, every day, every turn. It did NOT feel like the favor of the Lord.

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The only thing I knew was coming and that I’d expected to be hard was my son, my only child, moving out and into his dorm where he’s starting college. After helping him move, having dinner with him, giving him a good, long hug, I then sat in the car and watched him enter the freshmen residential hall while I shed silent tears. “Goodbye, goodnight, my baby.”
 
It was too much; too much in two weeks. In the middle of it, I came down with a virus and fever. And just when I thought I could steal a block of time, a few hours maybe, to lie down and try to sleep the burning chills of fever off, I let my other dog out, my 60-lb puppy, first, to do her business, and she got skunked—right outside the front door. Here, I longed—more than I longed for anything in that moment—to curl into a ball, and maybe hear someone gently say, “Hey, little sister, rest easy and sleep a while, I’ve got this. I’ll take care of the stinky dog and the messy house.” But no, I had to rouse my weak tuchus and bathe the dog and do what I do to neutralize skunk odor—because this isn’t my first skunk rodeo.
 
But you know what? It was at that point that I realized what favor looks like. It’s enduring a little more. It’s strength becoming stronger. It’s getting through things when you don’t think you have it in you to get through. I can’t imagine how things would’ve looked had others not been praying for me. I felt prayers. There were moments I knew someone was praying for me. And I’m so grateful. Thank you. There were people who posted blessings and prayers for me online, too. One person wrote words that stuck to me. I was reminded of them often through this whole ordeal. Paraphrased here that in HIS Presence is favor and grace; and in reaching my “Goshen”, a quiet and safe rest. Indeed, indeed, indeed! These words, in particular, helped me. I learned a lesson from them, and I’m indebted.
 
Just so you know, I did NOT complain about the house or situations when the dominoes kept falling. This is the only time I’ve shared or discussed these recent problems. I’ve not even shared with my sisters or close friends, who all seem to be going through their own crises, and I don’t want to be a burden. But I’m sharing this here, hoping that in this display of vulnerability there’s a beneficial point to this blog for others.
 
And so maybe I’ll add this one other giant thing. When you do the best that you can in faith, but then there are those around you who grumble and complain constantly about everything, bringing you down with angry, negative, and critical spirits, making things so much harder to endure… Or maybe there’s mistreatment and unkindness in your life… In an Old Testament sense, there are two kinds of people in the world: Davids and Sauls. Strive to be a David. So when the Sauls come at you, making every iota seem so much worse, you find a gentle presence in their cloud of chaos.
 
That, for me, my friend, is favor in the Lord. Maybe favor looks different for you. When I learn valuable lessons, that’s golden. I’ve learned through this experience. I’ve learned that idealistic approaches to things have demonic roots that need to go.
 
Physically, yes, this is my Goshen: living in a woodsy environment with a cool vibe. I like it very, very much.
 
Spiritually? Yeshua is the captain of this ship (my heart and home). I’m his crew. He’ll take care of me through the storms, all the storms that roll in. He always does. And the thing I crave most? A quiet and safe place. HE’S here. It’s a presence, a gentleness I can rest in. HE’S it. Wherever I live, wherever I go, whatever the conditions… when he is with me (which is always) THAT is favor. I want for nothing in a topsy-turvy world.
 
Child of God, if you feel like you’re on the brink of despair, you’re only on the brink of breakthrough.
 
What does breakthrough look like?
 
I think it looks like GRACE.

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