“I’ve been feeling a change is coming for the last two months. God is moving us. I can’t continue in the work I’m doing and we can’t live here anymore.”

Coming off an epic week, it’s July 26th, our houseguests left only minutes ago and I’m in the bunk-room yanking dirty sheets from the kid’s beds, singing “It’s Raining Tacos” while replaying the memories. He burst into the room and I knew by the look on his face, Marc (my husband) came to talk and not to harmonize, but I wasn’t ready for this news.

As there’s an understanding amongst LA landlords that monthly rent must stay on par with the price of used cars and Disneyworld vacations, I know he’s not joking around, but how can this be? The end of summer always comes with transition . . . preparing to move was not on my schedule.

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Clean House will celebrate it’s first anniversary next month. For year two, instead of mainly recounting yesterday’s blood and tears, I’ll share today’s in shorter posts and more frequently. My writing schedule will shift from week to week so I will post as there’s something worth sharing, and maybe I’ll include a vlog (video blog) here and there.

Since my niche is spotlighting the spirit and the heart (things we can’t touch or see) while handling the material world (things we can touch and see), it’s the perfect time to have you join me in daily life. Come along as I pack, move, and deal with heartbreak and unanswered questions while still celebrating God’s goodness and provision for our future.

If you’d like post alerts or to read extra thoughts and details, join a growing international community and become a Clean House subscriber! Otherwise, just check back when you’re curious where this faith journey leads next. I’m glad to have you along!

Back story: We felt God tell us, Marc (my husband) and I, to move our family to Los Angeles in 2015. After a couple scouting visits and a few months of consideration, the initial call from God dwindled in urgency and became just another option, then a muddled topic of conversation, and finally, a forgotten season of life. We never turned God down to His face, but we didn’t need to . . . our actions said enough.

Marc went to film school and began writing screenplays and television pilots. I attended ASU Start-up School for entrepreneurs and began my business. Our marriage hit some potholes. I sought healing for past sexual abuse. I wrote privately about image idolatry. We had a miscarriage. My dad took me with him on a dream trip to Israel and celebrated my birthday together while watching the sun dip into the Sea of Galilee.

Upon my return, I got pregnant again, but this time, we had a miracle baby girl. Our marriage continued to heal, and I continued to write. My testimony looking back is—God is faithful even in the barren place; nothing is wasted in His hands.

In 2020, after the first lockdowns, Marc was diagnosed with a heart condition and we were on year five of running away by standing still. Reminded of God’s call to LA, we repented and cried out to be saved. Unlike Jonah, the Lord didn’t have to send us twice. Marc’s surgery was a success and we made plans to leave Arizona.

In February 2021, with no job offers, housing, or network in Southern California, we crossed the border. For the next month, while job and house hunting, we explored the coast from San Francisco to San Clemente, made some face-masked memories with our three girls, and hyperventilated on multiple occasions questioning our sanity and God’s. Finally, Marc got work (he was the company’s first hire during the pandemic) and we settled in the San Fernando Valley.

I learned many things through this experience, but mostly, I learned about God’s nature.

He won’t ask His kids to do something He hasn’t already made provision for.

A month after renting our home, I was reading my Bible on the patio and the Lord had me read Psalm 107. Here’s what stood out to me:

Some wandered in desert wastelands, finding no way to a city where they could settle. They were hungry and thirsty, and their lives ebbed away. Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them from their distress. He led them by a straight way to a city where they could settle. Let them give thanks to the Lord for His unfailing love and His wonderful deeds for mankind, for He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things. Psalm 107:4-9

With tears of joy, I thanked and praised His faithfulness! He was true to His word! He brought us out of the desert where our lives ebbed away, and brought us to an oasis! Suffering leads to unbelief or an awareness of our need for saving.

I admit, I thought once we got saved, the distress would stop. Nope. While I prefer the problems of the promise land over the problems of the wilderness (territory and location matter), I continue to need saving from trouble and distress.

As you might have assumed, moving didn’t change me; I brought my problems with me. Being in California with its unique stresses and pressures revealed the fears and performance anxiety still lurking in my heart.

Southern California has a reputation and it’s not unmerited. There’s only one political party that gets elected, and the runner up is from the same party. We joke that getting honked at while the light is still red is a form of neighborliness because they save you time and embarrassment by making sure you’re alert for the green light.

Like every state, it has it’s pros and cons, but we know this is where God has us and there is such peace and joy in that. We do love it here and He’s provided for us, but not in the ways we envisioned. Not being able to afford where you feel you’re supposed to live isn’t great.

Back to moving: I’d like to say I handled the news like a pro and came alongside my husband’s decision before he finished sharing. In reality, I emotionally shut down for two days. I was finishing up a post about re-styling your home while crying over my own.

I wrestled with God and used the last of the tissues.

Why did you bring us out here if you didn’t mean to take care of us financially? You know what we need! You know what it costs to live here!

I feared we’d done something wrong.

Did we not do what you asked? Should we have gone door to door to fill our house instead of waiting for your Spirit to lead to the connections? Are we hearing your voice or have we been following our own way?

Isn’t this the home you hand-picked for us?

Seriously. It’s adorable. It’s the quintessential post-war San Fernando Valley charmer with a hummingbird on the doorbell, built-ins and original wood floors, a lemon and fig tree in the private yard, a long driveway for guests complete with a rosebush-lined third parking space. Walt Disney probably walked our neighborhood to inspire Fantasyland.

(The irony that I write and speak about not allowing THINGS to become an idol isn’t lost on me.)

God, you can’t want us to leave after saying you mean to establish us here. It takes longer than this.

We’ve been faithful to keep open house; to fill it with visitors, new neighbors, and new friends! But the visions you gave me of people filling the living room and spilling out onto the patio to talk and sing about you, their new friend Jesus, haven’t happened yet!

You told me what to pray for and I did! This house wasn’t only your idea, but it was your answer to prayer; I thought it was your house of promise!

He answered, “Trust Me, I mean to establish you in myself.”

Oh.

I’m not the first person to feel blindsided by an outcome I never imagined. When your baby’s heartbeat is no longer detectable, the scholarship didn’t go through, the job ends without reason, or your daddy dies in his sleep while on a mission trip—just acknowledging the pain doesn’t make it go away, but asking why doesn’t help either.

What do you do when the promise from God falls apart before it’s fulfilled?

I don’t know the answer to my own question, but here are a few things that help with the sadness and confusion:

I focus on Jesus and not the circumstances.

I choose to trust and not let thoughts of doubt swirl or gain momentum.

I choose to be thankful with my thoughts and with my mouth instead of being critical.

I choose to worship (with my mouth and body) no matter how I feel.

I tell Marc my fears and grief and have him pray for me and with me.

All of these things lift my spirit, and that’s the point. I can’t know all the answers but I can experience a living hope (Jesus) that goes beyond knowledge or understanding.

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After the weekend, through tears, we signed our 60 day notice to vacate. We’ll say our last goodbyes on September 30, and (as of now) we still don’t know where we’re going. . . but God does.

The next day, on our 20th wedding anniversary, God surprised us with fresh favor we didn’t see coming! To be continued. . . here