A Home Restored: Our Journey in the New Jersey Pine Barrens

Looking Back on Our Home in the Pines

Originally published in March 2020, this post captures the moment we first stepped into a home that would challenge us, shape us, and, ultimately, prepare us for something greater.

Looking back now, I can’t believe how much work we poured into that house. We painted every wall—inside and out—restored the fireplace, refinished the kitchen, and transformed multiple rooms. It got brand-new siding, a roof, and even a new chimney. I gutted and remodeled one bathroom entirely and gave another a much-needed facelift. Outside, we took on endless projects—cutting down trees, fireproofing as best we could, building a pond, and planting beautiful new life into the land. We even refinished furniture, and somewhere along the way, my husband picked up a few unexpected lessons in electrical work.

It was exhausting, backbreaking, and at times, we questioned what we had gotten ourselves into. But that long, mile-long tree-lined driveway became a sanctuary. I can’t even count how many of my counseling calls were taken as I walked up and down that stretch of road, finding peace in its quiet rhythm. And the sound of sanding down old wood, restoring it to something beautiful again—there was something deeply therapeutic in that.

We thought we’d stay there for years, long enough for my son to graduate, long enough to build a life. But God had other plans. He gave us just enough time to restore that home, not just for ourselves, but for another family who needed it even more. That house became a refuge for a family escaping New York, a safe place where they brought their horses, settle in, and focus on what mattered most. Because of the work we did, they put their energy into creating a haven for their animals and their children. I love that so much.

Then, just like that, God sent us to Texas. And the rest is history.

I can say now, with certainty, that everything happened exactly as it was meant to. My health has never been better, my family is thriving, and that home in the pines became a blessing to more than just us. I’m so grateful for that place, for that season of life, and for the journey that followed.

I hope you will enjoy this little look into the past with me. It helps me appreciate all the little and not-so-little things and remember who is really at the wheel. And sometimes we aren’t always the main character in the store.

Skelly

A Fateful Discovery in the Pines

It feels like a miracle that we found this home. I believe God led me to this abandoned, lonely house. It is tucked away in the heart of the Pine Barrens. Perfect houses at the perfect price are rare in this market. In many ways, this place mirrored my own brokenness—both of us in need of love, restoration, and purpose. Perhaps, in some strange way, we were meant to find each other.

Alone, waiting to be loved… much like me.

This old, bank-owned house, built in the 1970s, had been left to time—forgotten and empty for years. A once-loved home, now tattered and worn, bearing the scars of neglect. I imagine it once echoed with the warmth of a family before loneliness settled in. Now, its only tenants are carpenter bees and mice, scurrying through the remnants of what once was.

Through the cobwebs and the mounds of leaves piling along the driveway, I see something others might overlook. Where some see a mess—dead trees and decay—I see beauty, peace, and nature at its purest. I look past the bare, broken branches and toward what’s to come when life awakens from the earth again. The forest will breathe new life, healing the trees, painting the landscape in fresh color, and sprouting lush grass. This place, once forgotten, will become the home my family has longed for.

Through these dusty windows, I see sunlight wrapping around the house, warming it like an embrace. I watch the golden beams hit the timeless hardwood floors just right, revealing their quiet strength. If these floors could speak, what stories would they tell? Beneath my feet, they feel like home, their creaks singing a familiar tune—one that sounds like Christmas morning every morning as I walk down the hallway, making coffee before waking my kids for school.

I feel the warmth of tradition here—Sunday dinners, movie and pizza nights, Christmas breakfast, and Monopoly marathons. I can already picture the memories waiting to be made—gathering around a fire pit with new friends, reminiscing about old times with the ones who’ve been there from the start. I’m ready for long walks through the forest, for building a homestead, for creating a space that feels safe enough to wipe away tears and joyful enough for deep belly laughs.

Our family is about to explore a place that is now our home—a four-letter word we can all finally say with certainty. Here, we’ll learn to appreciate the nature and beauty that surrounds us. The trees hum with life, filled with the calls of countless birds, while red and gray foxes dart through the underbrush. Gray squirrels chatter, beavers and river otters make their quiet homes nearby, and white-tailed deer move gracefully through the woods. And that’s just the beginning—I know there’s so much more out there… including the one thing I wish wasn’t—snakes!

The restoration this land and home need reflects the healing my family and I have been searching for. I don’t believe we found this place by accident—it was meant for us, just as we were meant for it. It needs love and care, just as we do. And as we pour our hearts into rebuilding it, I know it will give back to us in ways we never imagined. There’s something profoundly beautiful about that—how love and hard work intertwine, how healing happens in the quiet moments of effort and devotion.

Sometimes, you have to lose yourself to truly find your way. The past has a way of clinging to us, like overgrown vines tangled in forgotten places. But as we strip away the old, as we clear the path and let the light in, something new emerges. Shedding the layers of yesterday allows us to step into something greater—something whole, something waiting to bloom. Just like this home, we are finding ourselves again.