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We are home.

I didn’t think that I would ever be writing that on this space, or even saying those words really.

It was a long road, one that took us over nine months from start to finish.

Why nine months?

Well, a lot of the reasons are very personal, some that I probably won’t ever share, but they were a part of our journey nonetheless.

We put our beloved first home on the market in April and it sold shortly there after, we closed in July and were living with my parents until the very end of October.

We had ups and downs placed ever so neatly in the mix of the closing of our home all the while finding the house of our dreams.

It had land and a shop, a place where my husband could work just steps away from us. We put an offer on it, and they came back not accepting it, we were heartbroken but we moved on.

We put offers in on two other homes, both never went through, and we were sitting in our empty house the day we were to be out and we both felt like we had been punched in the stomach.

The wind just knocked out of us.

I felt guilty, I felt prideful, and if I am being honest with you I was so ashamed.

What had I done?

I sold our home, it was really all my grand idea, and now we had nowhere to go.

Until our Realtor called.

Our dream home,  the owners had reached out to her, they wanted to accept our offer.

We couldn’t help but feel like God was writing a bigger story, one we couldn’t wait to watch unfold. We hugged we laughed and we cried as we walked away from our home for the last time.

Escrow drug on with that house for two months.

Deadlines were missed, over and over again, but we kept pushing on.

God was teaching us and refining us, and we were growing. We knew no perfect gift could come easily.

Until we were denied.

Not because anything that was wrong with us, but because of the amount of things wrong with the house.

We were heartbroken.

It was our dream home. It was perfect for us, but our eyes were shielded from the actual amount of work that would have had to have been done. We didn’t care, it was supposed to be ours.

We were denied on a Tuesday, and on a Wednesday we went out to look at houses. We had spent countless hours online searching for homes, even more hours driving around looking at the houses we had already narrowed down. Only to narrow down our list even more.

Two homes.

We held our breath as we walked into the first, we had learned something after looking at over fifty homes in the matter of a couple months…pictures lie, big time.

It was perfect.

Everything about it had been what I wanted in a house when we started this journey, everything except… it didn’t have the land, didn’t have the warehouse, and wasn’t exactly where I had imagined myself living.

We went on to the next house, the house in the perfect neighborhood, the one that was newer and seemed like it would be it.

We were greeted with smells and holes and stained carpets.

And a longing for the first house.

We left and returned to the house that was tugging at our hearts.

This was it, we walked in with different hearts, and it felt like home, like it had to be ours.

Contracts were written and accepted in a matter of hours.

No waiting, no worrying, no deadlines being pushed, no terms being changed.

It was ours two weeks later on Halloween.

Just like that.

God wrote our story, he knew the ending, but he walked us through the ups and downs with amazing people by our sides to teach us and grow us.

We were loved on, taken care of, grew closer to one another, and learned that a home is more than walls, more than a neighborhood, more than our dreams.

A home is a place where God puts you, where he knows you will be.

He gave us this good and perfect gift, and that my friends is the real story of our home.

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