I have drafted this post in my heart a thousand times, and I’ll be honest—I’m a little surprised I’m finally pressing publish. Sometimes you just have to hold your breath and leap.
For months I hesitated to share this story because I never want to sound like I’m complaining or bragging. My goal in sharing it is to offer hope and encouragement, so I hope that comes through.
If you’ve been following this blog only a short while, you might not know that five years ago my husband Robert and I were struggling financially. I was pregnant, and we moved into my parents’ spare bedroom after just over a year of marriage. We lived on my beginning teacher’s salary while Robert finished college on the G.I. Bill, and I felt, frankly, like a failure.
That’s not to say living with your parents makes you less of an adult or that money equals success. It’s just how I felt at the time. At 25 I imagined I would already have a house, a steady career I loved, and the ability to face every challenge with confidence. Life rarely matches the script we write for it.
Even in that difficult season, we were surrounded by love. I can’t overstate how grateful we were for parents who supported us when finances were tight and a baby was on the way. We knew many people don’t have that option, and their generosity humbled us.
During our first year of marriage we lived paycheck to paycheck. We often worried whether we could cover utilities for our small one-bedroom apartment. One thing that drew me to Robert was his strong faith—his calm confidence and courage in hard situations. Where he was steady, I was a worry-prone rule-follower: cautious, often anxious about worst-case scenarios. We balanced one another.
From day one of our marriage, no matter how thin our checking account, Robert insisted we tithe. I resisted at first. “We can’t afford to give any of our paychecks away,” I would say. It became one of the few topics we argued about. Still, we gave what we could, me much more reluctantly than him.
When we moved in with my parents as a family of three, we continued tithing. I worried every dollar was better put toward credit card debt or saving for a house. Yet life had different plans. The months that followed were full of grace after grace.
One unexpected blessing of living with family when you have a newborn is built-in babysitters. Those small windows of rest meant the world after sleepless nights—time to nap, to breathe, and to regroup.
With their support over two years, we paid down credit card debt, moved out of my parents’ home, and closed on our first house. Robert was able to focus on school and landed a job with good benefits. Those years of sacrifice and support turned our situation around.
Just when we thought God had finished changing our circumstances, things improved again. A few months into owning our new home, we decided I would leave teaching to be a stay-at-home mom. With daycare consuming nearly three quarters of my paycheck and evenings spent grading instead of parenting, it felt like the right choice. Money was tight once more, but we kept praying and tithing.
We had an empty house and no budget to furnish it. I had toddler naptimes, a creative itch to satisfy between cleanup and bedtime routines, and a thrift store nearby full of possibilities. One morning a clear, calm voice told me, “Start a blog.” It felt uncanny, but that simple direction brought focus and peace.
I launched the blog more as a place to create than a business. At first it felt like only my mom read it, but it became my happy place. Over three years we turned that first house into a home through thrift-store makeovers and budget decorating ideas. I learned to love a space more because it was built by hand and heart rather than bought ready-made.
Every paint stroke and every repair taught us new skills and revealed parts of ourselves. Creating something with your own hands, stepping back, and admiring the work is a powerful feeling—maybe a small window into what the Creator experienced in making the world.
That blog is now almost four years old and has grown into my full-time work—fulfilling passions I didn’t know I could combine. We sold that first house for a profit and saw our hard work pay off. Looking back, things turned out even better than we imagined. If we hadn’t faced those rocky seasons, we likely wouldn’t be where we are today.
If we hadn’t moved in with my parents, we might never have had that house to document. If I hadn’t taken the scary step of leaving my teaching position, this blog may never have existed. The financial limits forced creativity, resilience, and connection to others who face similar struggles. Every obstacle has taught us something meaningful.
We still tithe and pray for guidance, and we give thanks daily for provision, for the skills we’ve been given, and for the grace that steadied me when I doubted. I’m not worthy of it, but I’m grateful. God remains in control, and even if everything fell apart, His goodness would not change.
We will never fully repay my parents for those two years of help, and in a way I’m thankful for that debt. It reminded me of a deeper truth about my relationship with my Savior—the debt I can never repay and the boundless love poured out through grace. Above all, love wins.
“Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.” – Malachi 3:10
If you’re still reading this long post, know that I pray for you every night. We all carry battles that others may not see. It takes trust and faith to move through them.
Thank you so much for letting us share our lives with you. I hope this story touches your life in some small way.
