A long time ago, my aunt and uncle lived in Granada and we lived in each other's back pockets. They held our hands in language school and those first 10 years as we figured out Granada and culture and life and love and happiness and grief. I will never forget those days.

Even though they now live between two other worlds, I know they left a chunk of their hearts here and we talk regularly, sometimes more and sometimes less. This week, as we walk through a family crisis with my dad's health, we have spoken a bit more.

They left me, probably without meaning to, a book called L'abri, which discusses a long ago refuge created by the Schaeffers in the 1950s in Switzerland. They were in another time and another place and a different way of communicating, but God provided. They chose to step out in some crazy decisions, but God was there.

And so, at my lowest moments, I pull out the book and reread the passages. Last night after shopping, I drove up to the edge of our property. Granada has received a massive amount of rain and since it's still winter/spring, this means a huge amount of snow. As I sat where our home entrance would be in my car (it was cold!) I could see the snow-capped lower slopes as they dimmed in the dusk and asked God to give us what we need so this really could be my evening view.

I have hope and sometimes it dims and sometimes it lights again on fire, but realized last night all the money I need for our home and our business which need to be built at the same time, got me pretty overwhelmed. I plucked the book from my dusty shelf again and found hope and encouragement in it.

And even as I write this post, the messenger blings again and suddenly we are chatting back and forth like time doesn't even exist. The encouragement and virtual hugs are so important and so vital.

You see, we have a big, huge project, that extends us financially in a way I can't begin to imagine. The numbers are high, higher than we ever even thought about. Maybe, as Andrew muttered this morning, its too much too fast.

But I know God has given us the idea, the plan and the land. And so here, I mark my line in the sand, I raise a stone and say to you, the 15 readers I have, I know somehow it will happen and I know somehow in my soul we are at the very edge of it. Pray, hope, cling to this rock with us, and we will watch the miracle happen together.