A Season of Shifting

This is our last week all together. I can’t believe I’ve been away from home base for almost a month! I know the boys don’t want us to leave, but truthfully, I’m ready for a bigger and more private space again. Still, I’ll miss the weather here. It’s cooler, with mornings that bring just enough of a breeze to remind me of autumn—even if Texas doesn’t really know what a proper fall looks like. And of course, I’ll miss them. Words can’t touch the ache of that. Even though I hardly saw the boys while I was here, just knowing they’d be home every evening gave me that sense of wholeness… the kind that only settles a mama’s heart.

“Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!” — Psalm 133:1

During my time here, I’ve had the chance to explore and start getting comfortable with the area. That’ll take time, but I came with an open mind. It’s nothing like I pictured—neither good nor bad, just different. I love the wide-open land, the fact that it never feels crowded, and the small mercy of no traffic. People here work hard, take care of their families, and seem to mind their own business while still respecting one another. The streets are clean, the neighborhoods older but cared for, and Sundays are reserved for family and church. It’s blue-collar through and through—work trucks everywhere, no frills, but plenty of grit and pride.

Back at my home base, it’s another story. What was once a charming small town has been taken over by big-brimmed hats, wineries, and brunch-hopping crowds from the East and West coasters. A drive that used to take ten minutes now takes thirty, and somehow, we’re paying for parking in our tiny downtown. So many of the town’s original staples—those little treasures that made it special—have been bought up and shut down. Farmland has been scraped away for cookie-cutter houses, and those beautiful drives down River Road? Mostly gone, sold off for profit. I ache for the older folks who grew up there—it must be heartbreaking to watch it all change so quickly.

“Do not move the ancient landmark that your fathers have set.” — Proverbs 22:28

When we first stumbled into that town, we had no idea it would become such a “hot spot.” My husband’s company had been moving us across the country for years, and when they landed us in San Antonio, I flat-out refused to live in the city. His aunt suggested a few areas, and we ended up here. Our temporary housing was set up, and we just… stayed. Back then, I had no clue that 2020 would send waves of people fleeing their own cities—only to come here and destroy the very thing they were escaping from.

Still, I’ve loved living there. I dove into the community, not to change it, but to love it as it was. My son graduated there. He learned to drive on those roads. I made friends who are now closer than family. I’ve had some of my favorite years in that little town. And oh, my home—I’ll never forget crying when we bought it because I loved it that much. I still do. It’s bittersweet putting it on the market now. That house, those neighbors (most of them—kidding! but really, I do have the best neighbors), and that town gave me more than I could have asked for. It’s hard to watch it fade, layer by layer.

We have to be. It’s time to move on—I know that, and I feel it deep in my gut. With the holidays coming, we can’t keep doing this, living the way we’ve been. Separate households, stretched thin, juggling two lives since January. It’s been exhausting, to say the least. We need to settle down, to plant ourselves somewhere that feels like home again.

Now, knowing us, it might only be home for a few years—but if we’re together, that’s what matters most. The way it is now just feels off. And it’s draining us in ways that go beyond money or miles.

That said, for as uncomfortable as this season has been, I think we’ve handled it well. Over the weekend, J and I finally celebrated our anniversary, and naturally this came up. We both agree could have easily fallen into a long list of struggles, but we didn’t. Instead, we’ve been intentional about focusing on the good—the silver linings. Even when setbacks hit, we treat them like lessons and keep pressing forward. Our gratitude runs deep.

I don’t even know where this shift came from, except maybe it’s just God at work in us. What I do know is we’ve changed how we handle people and conversations. We no longer participate in the negative chatter or give space to complaining spirits. And we don’t allow certain people access to us the way they once had—especially when all they bring is drama and noise. That shift? Absolute game-changer.

We still love them, we still pray for them, and yes, we’ll still speak to them—but access looks different now. They don’t get to pull us down the way they used to. That’s called boundaries. And it’s biblical.

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” — Proverbs 4:23

Closing Reflection

I don’t know if this next season is a brand-new chapter or an entirely different book. What I do know is that I’m not trying to control it. I’m learning to let go, to listen, and to trust that God has a purpose for this shift. Whether it’s planting roots for a little while or stepping into something completely new, my prayer is to stay faithful and open to His leading.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.” — Proverbs 3:5–6

SK-

🪡 Woven in the Fabric

Change is never easy. It stretches us, unsettles us, and sometimes breaks our hearts. But God never wastes a season. If you’re standing at a crossroads, wondering what comes next, I pray you find courage to set healthy boundaries, choose gratitude, and trust His leading. You don’t have to carry it all — He’s already gone ahead of you.

Stay connected here at fabricthatmademe.com for more reflections on faith and family. And if this spoke to you, share it with a friend, follow me on Instagram @skfabric_303, and subscribe so you don’t miss what God is weaving next.

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