Where the Truth Lives
And so it begins…
Only—I have no clue what I’m doing.
This might be the hardest part: trying to look like I’ve got it all together when, truthfully, I don’t. I’m doing my best—really. I’m making a solid effort to do things the right way. I’m being patient, trying not to rush, gathering advice, weighing every option, and trying to be as “smart” as possible through this whole transition.
For real—this is a leap of faith! And I know the only way through it is to lean hard on God to lead me. To take my hand and guide me. Because as this journey unfolds, so much is being revealed. About people. About truth. About everything.
It’s humbling.
It’s freeing.
And honestly… it’s terrifying.
The first week is slipping by with my family scattered across the country. And somehow—I’m managing. I mean, I wish it weren’t this way. I wish we weren’t so spread out. But I understand why it has to be like this right now.
Still, I can’t help but feel the weight of it.
I wish people weren’t so needy… so pushy… especially when things already feel fractured. But that’s people for you—at least the ones in my orbit. I’ve always known that.
And something tells me, as this process continues, even more truth is going to surface. Patterns will repeat. People will show their hand. And I’ll be reminded that some things never really change.
So again, I lean hard on God—because when I rely on myself, my own humanity always trips me up. Especially when it comes to people.
People are hard.
And for some reason, I’ve been dealt some of the hardest, most self-evolved, emotionally draining humans to navigate.
Lucky me, right?
I’ve found myself wondering about that lately—especially in this strange in-between, where we’re living here and there. Why can’t there be more honesty? More support? More genuinely good people? More grace? Why does the heavy, manipulative, self-serving energy seem so loud and constant?
But something shifted the other night during prayer. As I sat there giving thanks, it hit me:
Gratitude
I do have good.
God reminded me—I’m living in it.
My husband and I created something beautiful in our children. We’ve poured truth and love into them, and it shows. And maybe that’s exactly why certain people have tried so hard to tear them down—feeding them lies, twisting stories, trying to manipulate them into believing things that just aren’t true. Fake smiles. Empty words. They don’t care for our kids—or us. They live a victimhood lifestyle.
The beautiful part?
Our kids saw the truth on their own—without a single prompting from me or their dad.
That’s God.
Only He can reveal what’s hidden and still protect tender hearts. Even with the pain of it all, our children still love others. They’ve learned how to be kind and wise at the same time. And through it all, God has been guiding and protecting J and me in the middle of these shenanigans. It’s almost as if the very tricks and games meant to divide and destroy us have, instead, drawn us closer in the process.
And that’s everything.
We have tight-knit relationships, full of love and truth, and I thank God for that. Without those bonds, I’m not sure I’d even understand what real connection is.
Sometimes, I think the bad stuff is just louder—the drama, the chaos, the fake. It tries to drown out the sweetness. The steady. The lovely.
But I’m learning to listen differently.
To be wiser.
To hear the quiet beauty of the good.
Week one passes, and the calls and texts feel normal. We’re handling it. We’ve lived like this before—apart but connected. It’s not new, and somehow… we do it well. The ache to be together pushes us to work harder so that, one day, we will be together again, for good.
Having G with me makes all the difference. She keeps me company, and she’s such a big help. I’m so thankful for how close we are. It’s a rare kind of closeness—one that some might not expect between a 15-year-old and her mom. She could easily choose her friends over me, but she doesn’t. And that’s sweet!
My son is still in Tennessee, and I wish he were home already. We are counting down the days! When he does come back, he’ll be living out West with his dad. His dad is waiting patiently. And like me… just wanting him back now.
So for now, we’ll live in this divide—the girls a few hours in one direction, the boys in the other. We’ll co-live, co-parent, and co-love the best we can. A week or two together every few months. It’s not ideal, but we’re doing what we have to.
And deep down, we all know this isn’t forever.
Soon enough, we’ll be together again… under the painted sky, heading West.
So until then, I stay intentional.
I pray often, keep working, and trust that this season holds purpose and meaning.
It’s clearing a path, making a way, and revealing truth—
One meaningful step at a time.
And I’ll follow Jesus all the way.
Sk-
If you’re walking through a season of distance, waiting, or learning to let go—this one’s for you.
God still draws near.
He still unites.
He still clears the path.
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💛 Share this with someone who needs hope in the in-between.
- Switching Off Survival Mode
- It’s Not That Deep…Or is it?
- When We Make Plans Without God
- Speaking Truth and Love
- Dreamland | A Journey Through the In Between
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