The office is empty except for on thing: a lone computer desk—the only furniture left to move over to our new apartment in Hollywood. Every room has become a bathroom-like echo chamber making phone conversations more awkward and singing voices more stellar. It’s been a gift to have seven full days of transition (especially for my five-year-old), but we’ll soon make the cut from old to new.

This is the last time I’ll write from my home in the valley. Coffee steam mingles with rising candle smoke wisps, and from my desk window I see towering trees lining the street; white picket fences covered by roses, blooming white and bubble-gum pink; the charm of this writing spot will forever adorn my memories of our first chapter in Los Angeles.

Sometimes it’s the small, familiar beauties of life that provide the backdrop for launching into the unknown.

And sometimes it’s unfamiliar sounds that launch us out of bed. . .

The usual sound of lawn sprinklers woke me, but the unusual sound of clothes on the drying rack being spray-washed got me out of bed. Entangled in sheets and a wild dream, I escaped both only to meet a living room labyrinth of packing boxes and barely make it to the patio (arms flailing to avoid a spiderweb facemask) in time to save the laundry from a total drenching.

Feeling a few steps (or days) behind, I admit the life changes expressed in my last two posts have not only upset my comfortable and responsible routines, but picked each of them up by the collar, body slammed them, then tossed them out the window.

To strategically pack the house for downsizing, navigate my husband Marc’s new job and schedule, search for new housing, parent three homeschoolers, make time to write, and keep up with the regular life relationships and chores has taken its toll.

Although many things fell through the cracks—and waking up in a panic became the norm for a bit—I have a new appreciation of grace (along with a lot of material for future posts).

The last few weeks have felt like the intense laboring right before a baby comes. Thankfully, my mom offered to visit for a couple weeks. . . we didn’t realize she’d become our beloved midwife. She prayed with us and for us, provided meals, kept us all laughing, singing, dancing, and praising, and believing God’s promises with us, even when things seemed dire.

An artist with a teacher’s heart, she brought creativity with her and kept the girls busy learning while I hunted down Hollywood leasing agents (as talking to humans instead of computers in post-pandemic LA proved harder than expected).

After being denied ( I’ll write about this in a future post) and with less than 48 hours before the scheduled movers were to arrive, we were finally approved for a different apartment in the bowels of Hollywood. . . right where we want to be.

Moving day was memorable. The truck—along with three Avengers—arrived to load at 8:00 am; by 9:15 am, I loaded mom’s luggage in the trunk. Since the girls love LAX Airport and wanted to say goodbye to Grandma, they came along for the ride. After leaving her in good hands, we met Marc at the new apartment before 11:00 am for the final walkthrough. While the movers sat double parked outside, the leasing manager dropped the keys into our hands and said, “Welcome Home”. We could finally move in.

Friends, bearing delicious doughnuts, showed up to build beds, unpack the kitchen, provide comic relief and support on our big day, then treat us to an early dinner of In-N-Out Burger (a family favorite).

I began this process hopeful that things would easily fall into place because God’s will seemed so clear. Certain pieces did come together quickly: Marc got the job and fast-tracked to start; the money we needed for the transition was provided; the Lord confirmed His plans for us over and over. However, in my experience, even when God is clear about what steps to take and what to believe for, His purposes and promises over our lives don’t happen without some push-back.

Actions done in love and faith—not fear and doubt—will continually meet resistance, but just like with His son Jesus, God’s story seems to unfold beautifully smack in the midst of discomfort, suffering and pain. I know there are many more hurdles and challenges ahead for us, but it’s worth it. People are the treasure and joy Jesus gave His life for, and He is the treasure worth our whole lives!

I have so much more to say about that, but I need to get back to the other job at hand: moving!

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We are in the transitional time—with one foot at our apartment in Hollywood and one foot here in the San Fernando Valley. I’m grateful for the timing, but a mountain separates the two locations and straddling something that big is never a good idea for long. Tonight, we’ll camp out on the floor; tomorrow night, we’ll tuck in our own beds and fall asleep in a new place.

I haven’t found my new writing spot yet, but I’m confident God’s prepared a place just for me. I’ll get set up and post again soon from a new backdrop of beauty.

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