Home. We’ve brought babies home here, I’ve actually birthed a baby here, I’ve cried out to God within these walls. I’ve praised Him for a great many blessings.

Home is more than walls and paint and light fixtures. It’s a rhythm, a song, the one you want to play over and over because it brings feelings of peace and familiarity.

I remember when we first moved into this home, our little old double wide mobile home. I couldn’t even bring myself to call her that. My view of home was so skewed, blurred by visions of perfect kitchens on Instagram and decorations that cost more than I could afford. This would be just a stopping off point. One year, two max, then onto bigger and better. On to our “real” home.

But then we fell in love. With our life, with the land. Visions of white kitchens were replaced with a reality of climbing trees, raising livestock and children, making all our food from scratch in our little old kitchen. We were home. This was the place we were meant to be for this season.

And now here we are in our final days here in California. A truth that felt so very distant back when we bought our new property in October, that I never actually thought it would arrive. But here we are. Living in a shell of a home with all of the same robust energy and life. Because we are the ones that carry that… not the home itself. This is one of many truths and tender mercies the Lord has given me these past weeks as we prepare to leave the only place I’ve ever called home, right next door from family, walking away from good and consistent jobs, for a calling greater than all of that. A calling to follow where God is leading us, to trust that he knows far greater than we do.

And as we have began our “see you laters” with family and friends this week, I’ve prayed that the feelings come, not wanting to stifle or gloss over them in hopes of hiding them down deep. Instead I long to feel them completely and deeply as they come, find their proper place within my heart, and tuck them away with truth and conviction.  And altough it stings each time we say goodbye, hoping desperately it won’t be too long before we meet again, through the ache I’ve felt the most unimaginable peace. He has led us here, down this road, and He will not forsake us. 

 I’ve also been so amazed to see this prayer answered for us in His good and perfect timing. You see, we had been talking about moving for a couple of years leading up to this point we are finally in. We prayed fervently for answers as to whether or not we were meant to move, and then after this dream, I knew the answer was yes. From there we traveled all over the country last year, all the while praying that He would guide us to where we were meant to be. We landed on a place we had never been, just outside of Greenville, South Carolina. We put an offer on a house we had never seen, with a due diligence request that we got to fly out and visit it in person before committing to purchase the property. Our offer and contingencies were accepted, and soon we were on our way to South Carolina.

But this story is more about what is happening here, in our current place of residence. The timing of it all is no mistake, I’m certain. God has had this planned all along, and as I pray fervently for peace throughout my days, I know He is here, so intricately and mercifully woven into the details.

You see, things are changing rapidly here. The physical sense of safety and comfort is being lifted as orchards around us are being removed, piles of barren branches have replaced the once shady canopy and cool grass my children ran through. You can now see all the way to the street that we were once guarded from, now the noise of passing cars is all too obvious. And this road, the country road I’ve driven down a million times, will soon become a busy four lane street, full of new residents moving out here to sprouting neighborhoods, and schools. It feels foreign almost. The path I walked with my children for 7 years… the one I waddled down in pregnancies, ran down each day as I prayed, it’s different, it’s all different. A truth that should break my heart, but instead I feel gratitude. I’m not walking away from our beloved farm of safety and reprieve anymore. Instead, we are leaving behind a different place. One that I am wholly grateful for as it has been the most wonderful home I could have ever asked for all these years, but for reasons outside of her control and mine, she is not the same. It’s like she’s pushing us away, stripping away the layers of comfort and familiarity in an effort to let us go.

So even here, even as we pack our things and say goodbye to the home that has held us so lovingly through the years, she is still nurturing us, still guarding our hearts, still taking care of us so well.

Our friend Stephanie came over a few weeks ago and made a video to help us always remember our sweet home here in California.