Last summer Drake and I were discussing our home when I mused, “I don’t know how I could ever leave this home when so many memories of Jud are connected to this place.  I’ll probably have to be forced out.”

Little did I know as those words left my lips, circumstances leading up to that process were already underway.

In October we received a notice that our landlord, despite our consistent payments, had been defaulting on his loan for several months.  My heart sank.  And although he indicated he would be able to maintain ownership, seeds of concern were raised in our minds and a process of letting go had subconsciously commenced.

In the meantime, as we began to explore the possibility of Jessie starting kindergarten this fall, we became aware that our home is zoned for a poorly ranked public elementary school with little potential for a transfer.  A new dilemma emerged, impacted by where we live.

I began to research various school districts and school options.  Furthermore, I started exploring rental prices and getting on lists for updates on new property postings for rent.  The rental market seemed ripe, while some community-related deficiencies of where we live became more apparent…I could feel my heart softening toward the idea of a move. 

In December, I unexpectedly came home to a Notice of Trustee’s Sale taped to our door indicating our home was set to go to auction in January.

Since that day, Drake and I have been on pins and needles wondering what would happen with our home; would our landlord be able to finalize negotiations with the bank and keep the property, would the auction be postponed, or would the property actually foreclose? 

Today was the day.  I had to make the phone call that would confirm the status of our home.  As I sat on my bed, phone in hand, my heart was erratically pounding in my chest, my face flushed, and my mind racing.  So much of our future pinged on the information I would receive on the other line.

And then she said it, “You are now tenants of a bank-owned home and the bank will contact you to let you know when you will be required to move.”

I hung up the phone and felt numbness and grief.  However, I was surprised to also feel peace and hope flooding into those broken places.  I began realizing how God had graciously been preparing my heart for this transition over the last months.  Whereas just 6 months ago I thought I would wither at the idea of moving, I was seeing possibilities and potential. 

In recalling my comment to Drake last summer—I never actually wanted to be forced to leave our sweet home, the home where Judson lived and died, but it seems that is just how God is choosing to guide us.

We are facing many uncertainties, numerous emotional complexities that have yet to be realized, and several logistical hassles, but somehow in the midst, I am aware of God’s loving-care and provision – something I’ve been desperate to behold as of late.

So although my tears flow intensely when I actually consider our move, amazingly, my heart is simultaneously filled with gratitude.