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“Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have.”

Philippians 4:11

I moved. It’s true. Although, I shouldn’t say I because it’s actually We. At the end of March we closed on the sale of our house and we moved. It should be known that I don’t do change very well. It takes me forever to make a major life decision. I will persevere through a miserable situation because I don’t want to be a quitter. I possess an (almost) unwavering faith that things will get better. Until (after several years) they don’t, and, for the sake of my sanity, I am forced to make a change. I can think of two instances in my life where this rings true, but neither of those stories are for the sharing. Not here, anyway. A girl has to have some secrets, after all.

Backstory…We rented a house the first two years of our marriage. It was a great house and we made wonderful memories. Our children, who ranged in ages from 8-15 then, and are now almost 16-23, still talk about how much they loved that house. It was our first home as a family. Although, I think what they really loved was having the entire downstairs to themselves.

In 2015, we embarked on a journey of building (what I thought would be) our forever home. Thanks to our builder, and perhaps being married to a banker who knows a lot about building houses, the construction process went very smooth. I remember taking a day off work to pick out everything for the house. From lighting fixtures and flooring to paint and stain and everything in between, we had everything chosen in one day and had a lot of fun doing it. Not a single fight! Victory!

We moved into our new home Halloween weekend of 2015. I wasn’t sad to leave the rent house because we were moving into something we built. To some, it may have been just another house, but to me, it was ours. Every little detail unique to our tastes and personalities. I loved it. Over the next 5 ½ years we would spend countless hours improving and continuing to make it ours. Landscaping, painting, and even adding a dog to our family while living there. It was home. And for a girl who loves to put some roots down, home is a big, big deal.

In early 2020, pre-Covid, we purchased some land and knew we would eventually build again. It was fun to dream about, but in reality, we knew it would be at least a few years down the road. Besides, I wasn’t in a hurry to move anywhere. Because, you know…Home.

With 2020 and the pandemic, something crazy happened. Let’s be honest…A LOT of crazy happened, but one crazy thing in particular was the housing market boom. I’m not going to sit here and pretend I understand anything about this. I’m also not going to pretend that I was completely thrilled when my husband, who had been outside working in the yard, came in and said, “So…I’ve been thinking.” I’m pretty sure my heart sank when he followed with “I think we should sell our house.”

I suppose I didn’t have to go along with it. I could have laughed in his face, asked him if he was on crack, checked to see if he was having a heat stroke from all that yard work—even though it was January. I could have said no, but instead I said nothing and began to worry and fret because that’s what I specialize in. We prayed about it and, in the end, I agreed. Not because I was excited about selling our home, but because, as much as I hate to admit it, he is so much smarter than me when it comes to these things. And, for all the worrying I am prone to, I do trust him because he is the epitome of “a man with a plan.” We want to build on our land—he will figure out a way to make it happen.

Our house was on the market for five days. In five days, I think we had seven showings and five offers. At the time of the contract, we had no idea where we were going to live. In less than 60 days, we had found a place to rent that is actually perfect for us in the interim. I can say that now, but in the days leading up to the move and even as little as a week ago. I was in a very sad, dark place. And I’m not talking about my closet.

I have learned, however, it is in my darkest times when God teaches me the most important lessons.

I wrote a post last May simply entitled Home. I wrote it because we were on the cusp of a lot of milestones in our family and many things were changing. I wanted our children to know they would always have our memories together to keep them grounded and give them peace no matter where life took them. I talked about how the physical home may change, but home is always in your heart and in your memories. I thought about that blog quite often as we started moving into our current rental, and I even posted an adorable picture of our dog on the front porch with the hashtag #homeiswhereyourheartis. Little did I know that in just a few short days, I would be haunted…er, I mean humbled…by my very own words from not even a year before.

I will spare a lot of details here frankly because I am embarrassed at my behavior and my thought process. I’ll sum it up to this: I am spoiled. I had a home I loved with nice things. And now I don’t. I had tons of space and storage. And now I don’t. I had garage to keep me from scraping ice or walking in the rain. And now I don’t. I had and now I don’t have. Are you seeing my pattern here? I cried for days. I was so focused on the physical place and what I was losing that I really lost sight of the bigger picture. I lost sight of a life of thankfulness and gratefulness. I lost sight of the wonderful memories we would always have. I lost sight of the many blessings in my life and what we had planned for the future. More so, I lost sight of the One who illustrates the ultimate picture for my life. 

Once I realized all of this, I was so ashamed of myself and this shame sunk me further into that sad, dark place I was getting to know so well. I had no right to be sad about these things. I wasn’t homeless, after all. I had my family, my job, food on the table, and many hopes and dreams for the future. So many things to be grateful for. So many doors the Lord had opened for us. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about how I was feeling because I knew it would be laughable to most.“Oh yeah. Poor Candace. She sold her beautiful home so she can turn around and build another one soon. Life must be SO miserable for her.” Followed by lots of eye rolls and other mean, whispered comments.

Pity. Party of one.

You know what finally snapped me out of it? Realizing I moved. Of course, physically, but I’m talking metaphorically. In my spiritual life, I moved away from God. A friend posted a devotional from Jesus Callingand one line stood out. “Begin the day with open hands of faith, ready to receive all that I am pouring into this brief portion of your life.”

I had grown comfortable in my home and in my life. In forgetting all the ways the Lord had blessed me, I grew more secure in the safe haven of my house than in the shelter of the Lord who provided it all for us in the first place. And when we moved into this rental, much like the Israelites of the Old Testament, the Lord provided for us and I grumbled because it was uncomfortable and not what I was used to. All the while, as He was leading them to the Promised Land, He is also leading us to something greater. All in His timing.

We do plan to build again, but for now, we are in this perfectly charming rent house. And I believe I will spend the next year (or perhaps longer—who knows?) learning “to be content whatever the circumstances.” (Philippians 4:11)

Because only when I reside in the shelter of Jesus will I find rest in His shadow. In Him, I find refuge and safety. (Psalms 91:1-2) In Him, I find peace and joy.

In Jesus, I find home.