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When this southern girl married a southern California boy 18 years ago, I swore I would never move to California. My Dad swears that Scott swore he would never bring me out here.

"The only way I'll move to California is if God brings the U-haul," was an oath I made quite often.

My husband Scott was a youth minister in Carthage, Missouri. My twin sister Michelle's husband was a children's minister in Springfield, Illinois. Of course, we sisters were always conspiring to get our husbands on staff at the same church. Everyone, especially the men, thought it was an absurd possibility. I didn't, and prayed for as much quite often. But life wasn't too bad. Michelle and I only lived 6 hours away from each other, and we managed to see each other every few months.

10 years into our marriage, when Scott started getting squirmy, I started getting nervous. The word "California" came out of his mouth more than I liked. My response was always "The only way I'll move to California is if God brings the U-haul." (I'm sure you know where this is going…)

On the last day of Scott's 5 year commitment to Fairview Christian Church in Carthage, the phone rang. It wasn't a telemarketer. It was Rick Stedman, pastor at Adventure Christian Church near Sacramento, California. Ughhh. The call I had always dreaded.

"Someone has recommended you as the youth pastor I should hire." It's something every youth pastor longs to hear.

So we talked about it. And I cried about it. And I even prayed about it.

As I lay in bed that night, with a few tears on my pillow, I had a talk with God. If He really wanted us in California, I would go. If I could pack my kids in the car for six hours to drive and see my sister, I could pack them in a plane for 6 hours to see my sister. If the work of the gospel took us to California, I was willing to go.

"I'm going to be in Illinois soon to speak at a church planting conference. Drive up and meet me." That's what Rick said when Scott called him back.

So we packed up three babies and drove the 6 hours northeast to stay with Michelle and Brant and meet Rick Stedman. On the day of the conference, we sent Scott and Brant ahead of us. Four children under three probably wouldn't be welcomed at a church planting conference.

When they arrived, Scott started the visit with introductions.

"Brant, this is Rick Stedman from Adventure Christian Church in Roseville, CA."
"Rick, this is my brother-in-law, Brant Perrigo."

"Hum," Rick responded, "that name sounds familiar."

Rick (so I'm told) got out his daytimer and shuffled through the pages.
"Wow, Brant. Someone else recommended you as the children's pastor I should hire. I'm supposed to call you this week." But of course, Rick had no way of knowing that Scott Mathews and Brant Perrigo were married to twin sisters.

The rest of the story is an answered-prayer-tale. It wasn't God who brought the U-haul to my door, it was my brother-in-law, Brant. (And that was close enough for me.)

Scott and Brant worked on staff together at Adventure for 5 years. At year 5, Brant planted a daughter church north of Adventure. At year 6, Scott planted a daughter church south of Adventure. At each move along the way, our houses were just a little farther apart, but close enough to enjoy each other.

That was nine years ago. And nine years ago to the day that we came into California (July 18th), Brant pulled his family's U-haul back out of town headed toward Carthage, Missouri. You can imagine that I cried. You can imagine that it feels like the end of a great story to me.

But as I lay in my bed with tears on my pillow, I had a talk with God. I believe this is where you want us, God. I'm compelled by the words of Paul: "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?" (Romans 10:13-14).

I told God once that I would come to California without my sister, and I guess He's trying to make sure that I meant it.

"'Winging It" from Stan Smith

Washed by the Water of the Word