For many years, I had no home. I lived in rooms of rented houses or slept on couches owned by generous friends.
But in my heart, my home was knocking. I heard it. In my mind’s eye, I saw it.
I saw acres of green fields. I saw four seasons. I saw my boy growing up in God’s own country.
We sold all our belongings and moved to a place we had never been before. We knew no one. We had no job.
But I heard home knocking.
After a year and a half of searching, we found it. Our realtor asked as we pulled on the gravel driveway, “Is this your idea of paradise?”
Yes. We had found it. A small piece of land to serve as my sanctuary, my place to heal and my son’s space to grow.
I answered that knock.
I came home.