Have you ever thought you had your life all figured out?

We did.

We bought our land. We built our home. For the last five years, we’ve poured our hearts into making this place home—layering our own memories on top of the ones it already held from Clint’s childhood and young adulthood.

This land wasn’t just property. It was history. It was intention. It was forever.

And yet… here we are.

Now we’re living with the reality of an out-of-touch family member who lives at the end of our driveway because they are our neighbors and part of the reason we originally moved out here—someone who has decided they hate us and has made it their mission to disrupt our peace. We’re dealing with threats, unpredictability, and fear, not just for ourselves but for our sweet Great Pyrenees as well.

At the same time, we now have a toddler. And wow—has life changed.

We live 45 minutes from my job and from almost any activity beyond a park, which is still 20 minutes away. For the past six weeks, I’ve been driving nearly every day into “the city”—an 80-mile round trip. Add that to the emotional stress of the situation at home, and it’s exhausting in every sense of the word.

I never thought I would want to move. Ever.

But lately, we’ve found ourselves having real conversations about it.

And that brings the hardest questions:

How do you let go of the home and land you dreamed of?
The place you brought your miracle baby home to?
The place that holds so many memories?

Do you let one angry, unstable individual push you out—even when they’re robbing you of your peace?
Is it worth staying when you can’t predict what will happen next?
When the constant driving is wearing you down?
When your parents—your main support system—are an hour away?

And if we do move… where do we go?

Do we move closer to my job?
Or do we move back to my hometown—closer to my parents, grandparents, sister, and nephew?

Being close to family would be such a relief. Watching my nephew, who’s only six months younger than my son, grow up alongside him is something my heart aches for. More time with my parents. More support. More shared life.

But then the doubts creep in.

Do we just stay here?

Will moving back home make me feel stuck—when for most of my life, all I wanted was to leave?
What about my job? I love it. I don’t want to give it up. My hometown is an hour and twenty minutes away, and most of my friends are closer to where I currently work.

It feels like a constant tug-of-war.

And yet… deep down, I feel Jesus pressing on my heart to move.

Even though this was the place we thought we’d stay forever, the truth is—we don’t actually know the plans He has for us.

Scripture is full of people who thought they knew where they’d stay—and God gently (or abruptly) said, “Not here. Not anymore.” Staying isn’t always faithfulness. Sometimes obedience looks like packing boxes with tears in your eyes.

We think we have life figured out, and then BAM—Jesus reminds us that He is in control.

Life is hard. And this season is especially hard. But even here, He is with us. He will lead us where we need to go—but only if we surrender. Only if we’re still enough to listen. Only if we let Him lead.

So that’s where I am.

Praying. Reflecting. Asking hard questions. Having long conversations with Jesus.

This story isn’t finished yet.

Stay tuned.