I collapsed on the lounge chair in the backyard, yearning for peace of mind. Earlier that morning I’d accepted a job transfer from our small town in Pennsylvania to Orlando, Florida. My husband, Frank, and I felt it was the right decision. We were empty nesters and ready for a change. But now I wasn’t so sure. We’d be leaving our friends, our church, our whole lives. Frank would be unemployed until he found a job there. We had to sell our house and find a new one! What had we gotten ourselves into?
Lord, please show me if this move is right for us, I prayed. Then I drifted off to sleep.
In my dream, a name flashed before my eyes like a neon sign: Mary Clauser. I jolted awake. What’s that all about? I wondered.
Mary and her husband, Lee, were casual friends who lived in an apartment in a neighboring town. They’d only visited us once, years before, and I hadn’t spoken to Mary in months. Still, I couldn’t ignore what I’d seen. I called her.
“Hi, Mary, I just…um, wanted to let you know that we’re moving to Florida,” I said hesitantly.
Mary practically interrupted me. “Does that mean you’re selling your house?”
“Yes. Our realtor is coming tomorrow.”
“Great! Can I stop by tonight?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said. Why would Mary need to see our house in such a hurry? I thought.
Mary arrived later that night and I showed her around.
“Our home had originally been built for a wounded war veteran,” I told her. “It has wide doors, and an easy-access shower to accommodate a wheelchair, even a heated garage.”
“I remember,” Mary said. Then she explained that Lee had become ill. He could no longer climb the stairs to their apartment and they needed a new place to live as soon as possible.
“Your house is perfect for us,” she said. “And I never told you, but Lee grew up in this neighborhood. His parents live less than a mile away, so they’d be able to help him when I can’t be there. When you called, it was an answer to prayer.”
I immediately canceled the appointment with our realtor. We had our buyers. And I had peace of mind.
