I’m thankful we could raise our family in a lovely home with four bedrooms, three baths, a large tree-shaded yard, a dog, and even a picket fence.  But after several years of empty nesting, it had become a burden. I longed for simplicity.

Today, as I ponder the anniversary of the move we made a year ago, I see that God answered prayers in ways I never expected. Downsizing became not just a material adjustment, but a diet for my soul.

Action began in the spring of 2020 with the repair of a leaky shower that led to deeper issues. Disruptions in the economy had created pent-up demand in the real estate market resulting in a feeding frenzy whenever homes went up for sale. It seemed to be the time to make our move. I cheered as we began much-needed renovations toward my long-awaited goal.

The scope of the renovation expanded through summer into fall. We emptied twenty-nine years of accumulation from two floors and an attic. With little time to find homes for our cast-offs, stress mounted, but my determination not to be owned by material possessions kept me going. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure” proved itself. Dumpsters helped.

Our house went on the market just after Christmas and sold immediately. Our mental picture of a downsized home had been developing over the years, so when we unexpectedly found the perfect floorplan in a small neighboring town, we took the plunge. Construction would take time, but God had us covered.

Some amazing friends who had just moved in within sight of our lot offered to let us “house sit” while they spent some time in Florida. During this time, I got to know some future neighbors and watch work on our lot begin. What a gift!

But progress turned out to be extremely slow, and at the end of February we had little more than a foundation. Not a problem, we thought. We moved to an Airbnb back in Greensboro for March and made adventurous plans to rent another one in Texas where Dan could finish tax season remotely and we could visit family.

Those visits ended in May and still no closing date.

Construction delays continued as shortages kept everyone guessing. Though our furniture was stored in a POD, we lived from suitcases and what we could pack in our car. Our third Airbnb housed us for another six weeks and allowed us to check on the construction. Despite the inconveniences, I enjoyed sampling the culture of life in the historic district between UNC-G and Greensboro College at the edge of downtown Greensboro.

That lease ended in mid-July, but we had one more place to go. A trip with our grandkids for their parents’ tenth anniversary and renewal of their wedding vows had been on the books for months.

As God had it planned, it was enough. We left Bald Head Island at six in the morning and closed the same day at three.  

“But what things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ.” Philippians 3:7 NKJV

Our nomadic existence taught me much. Less pride in appearances. Less security in the predictable. Less reliance on my own understanding as to when this season would end. Not to mention protection and provision in the face of a contagious virus while we had fun. Paul’s loss was profound—mine superficial, but I gained trust in Christ and experienced His loving care in priceless ways.

Now that we’ve settled into our two-bedroom villa, which is really just a duplex, I’m not eager to fill it up. Excess drawer and closet space to go with an over-generous pantry feel strangely luxurious after the purging.

Losses come to everyone, and whether the reason is something good or something bad, change is stressful. But the thing that never changes is our God. Through change, we learn that although possessions and people come and go, His steady, loving presence securely keeps us. 

Prayer: Father, free me from the temptation of having so much that my dependence on you is forgotten. Continue to grow me in the freedom and joy that comes from letting go for You.