Hey friends,
Many of you have encouraged us to blog, vlog, and document our adventures as our family steps into this new season. We’ve hesitated—not because we don’t have a story to tell, but because we’ve wanted to make sure we were actually living the story before we started trying to explain it.
And now, as we’ve begun this journey, I keep coming back to one simple picture:
Open tabs.
You know what it’s like when you have twenty tabs open on your internet browser? Some are things you’re actively working on. Some are things you meant to come back to. Some you opened years ago and have completely forgotten about. But they’re still there.
Over the last couple of years, the Lord has been teaching me about the weight of our words—our agreements, our promises, the things we say yes to, the things we believe, and even the things we speak over our own lives.
You see, in early 2025, I began learning more about different approaches to deliverance and inner healing that Jesus teaches us in His Word. As I practiced and trained with a few close friends, I had a strange realization while I was trying to command a demonic presence to leave: What if the problem isn't that the enemy isn't listening? What if I don't actually believe myself? If I don’t take my own words seriously, why on earth would the demonic realm listen?
This revelation launched me into a inward journey of discovering how I don’t take my own words seriously and how often I had spoken words that I didn't follow through on. Maybe it’s to a friend about “getting together for coffee sometime” even though I knew I didn’t have any margin, or maybe it was telling someone I would pray for them, yet never mentioned anything to the Lord. You get the idea.
Promises to myself. Things I sensed the Lord inviting me into. Ideas and dreams I had said yes to. Commitments I had made and then quietly abandoned.
I began to wonder if there was something significant about keeping our word—not because our words are magical, but because there is something deeply formative about becoming a person whose yes actually means yes.
The Lord had already begun showing me earlier that our spiritual authority is connected, in part, to integrity—to becoming people who keep their word. And as I sat with that, I realized just how many “open tabs” I had accumulated over the years.
Then 2026 came, and I kept hearing one phrase in my spirit:
Full circle.
It dawned on me that it had been about ten years since I first began experiencing what I would now describe as the Father’s love in a profoundly personal way.
So I opened my iPhone Notes app. (Praise God for the Notes app.)
I went all the way back to 2016 and began reading through pages and pages of things I had written—prayers, dreams, hopes, ideas, and words that I had spoken over our marriage, our family, and our future.
At the time, I thought many of them were simply prayers. But reading them ten years later, I began to see something else. Some of those prayers had become invitations.
Some were things I had actually had the ability to participate in. And some of them were still sitting there unfinished. One of the clearest examples was this simple sentence I had written years ago:
“We will give away in generosity as much as we currently make now.”
I had completely forgotten I wrote it.
But there it was.
And I couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps some of these things weren't merely words to admire. Perhaps some of them were invitations to obey - yet I never did.
This sent me deep into Scripture, where I began noticing again how seriously God's people treated words, covenants, vows, promises, and agreements.
Words matter.
God's Word certainly matters.
And because we are made in His image, our words matter too. Language is a gift from God. What we say shapes what we believe, what we choose, what we agree with, and ultimately how we live.
And Scripture repeatedly shows us that there is a difference between merely hearing a word and actually doing it. Even Jesus lived this way. He didn't simply receive the Father's will as an idea. He walked it out. He went where He was sent. He did what He was given to do. He fulfilled what had been spoken concerning Him through obedience.
And I began asking myself:
What if some of the things I've called “prophetic words” were actually invitations to participate?
Not every promise over our lives is something we can accomplish through our own effort. There are things only God can do. There are things that require His supernatural intervention, and there are times when, in His mercy, He actually prevents us from walking through a door we thought was right.
But then there are also things He invites us to do.
Things that require courage. Discipline. Faithfulness. Repentance.
And sometimes simply putting one foot in front of the other. This is where the metaphor of the open tabs became so powerful for us. Imagine every unfinished commitment as a tab running in the background.
You can still function. You can still move forward. You can even open new tabs.
But something is constantly running underneath the surface.
And sometimes, instead of moving forward, you find yourself mysteriously returning to the same place.
For us, this became deeply personal.
There have been moments throughout our marriage and family story where we sensed an invitation from the Lord to move, explore, create, or step into something new. We would talk about it. We would pray about it. Sometimes we would even tell other people, “This is what we're going to do.”
And then we didn't.
Fear of people's opinions.
Fear of rejection.
Fear of failure.
Fear of missing out.
Pride.
Comfort.
And sometimes simply trusting our own wisdom more than we trusted the Lord.
There were many reasons.
But eventually, we felt the Lord invite us to try again and go back to those places that had held our yes. We repented.
Because when a human heart repents, it’s not met with harsh judgment from the Father. No, it’s met with loving eyes, hand over hand guidance, and a mercy to get up one more time and do it different.
And this is where our two stories began to converge
Because while I was looking backward at all of these unfinished words, we had also been quietly carrying a growing desire to adventure.
To explore.
To see more of what God had made.
To step outside of the comfortable patterns we had built.
And over time, that desire began growing in both of us.
What started as a conversation became a prayer.
The prayer became a possibility.
The possibility became a plan.
And then, through what we can only describe as the Lord's kind coordination, doors began opening.
We began asking a very simple question:
What if now is the time?
Our family is in a unique season.
We've chosen to homeschool our kids, and it has been going remarkably well. The kids enjoy it. Julie has found a rhythm that works for our family. And it has created a flexibility that we don't know how long we'll have.
I'm also in a unique season professionally where I've been able to continue working remotely.
Both of those circumstances may have an expiration date.
So we began asking:
Why not now?
What if this isn't the season to protect our comfort?
What if it's the season to follow the invitation?
And that eventually led us to a pretty crazy idea:
What if we sold our house, bought a truck and travel trailer, and took our family around the country for the next school year to obey the Lord, try again and touch these places we once felt so strongly we were supposed to move to?
It sounded a little ridiculous. It also sounded strangely peaceful. So we prayed. We listened. We waited. And eventually, we felt like it was time to move. Selling our house became the biggest part of that decision.
And honestly, there are two sides to that. The first is obedience. We've both sensed that our season in this particular home is coming to a close. We believe the Lord is inviting us into a season of transition, and we don't believe the next chapter will ultimately be lived here. Selling the house became our “burn the boats” moment. We didn't want to keep one foot in the old season and one foot in the new. We wanted to make room to actually move forward. But there's another reason we wanted to sell.
Stuff.
Over the years, we've accumulated a lot of it. And while we've always considered ourselves relatively modest people, we had both grown increasingly uncomfortable with how much we owned. Somewhere along the way, in our desire to bless our children and give them good things, we had slowly become attached to things. Consumerism had crept in. And this transition has become an unexpected gift: an opportunity to radically simplify.
We've been selling. Giving away. Sorting. Letting go. And teaching our children that having less doesn't mean having less joy. In fact, we're discovering the opposite. Sometimes letting go creates room for life.
So now we're standing here with a truck, a trailer, four kids, a lot less stuff, and a pretty open calendar.
Where are we going? To follow the Lord and close the tabs. But Honestly… other than that, we don't completely know. And that's part of the point. We also want to practice being led.
There are also places that carry significance for our family—places where we believe we may have missed a prompting in a previous season, or where something feels unfinished.
For us, going back isn't about trying to force God to fulfill something we once wrote in a Notes app. It's about obedience even when we missed it the first time. Because God loves it when we try again. It's about putting our feet on the ground and letting the Spirit impart His kindness to us from that region. It's about revisiting places, dreams, and words that have remained open tabs in our story and asking the Lord:
Is there anything here You want us to finish? Maybe the answer will be yes.
Maybe the answer will be no. Maybe we'll discover that the Lord was protecting us when we didn't move the first time. And if that's the case, we'll close that tab too. Because following Jesus isn't about proving that every old dream was prophetic.
It's about friendship with Him. It's about learning to recognize His voice.
It's about becoming people who are willing to say yes—and willing to say no—because we trust the One leading us.
So are we coming back? Yes. For the holidays, at least. And after that? We'll see.
Our current plan is to travel throughout this coming school year, but we want to hold the plan loosely. If the Lord says come home, we'll come home. If He says keep going, we'll keep going.
We're trying to learn to ask a different question: Not, “What is our five-year plan?”
But, “What is the Lord inviting us into today?”
And perhaps that's the deeper story underneath all of this.
We're not really trying to find ourselves on the road. We're trying to find more of Him. We're not chasing adventure for adventure's sake. We're learning what it looks like to obey. We're not selling our house because we hate the life we've built. We're letting go of it because we believe there may be another kind of life waiting for us.
And strangely enough, what could feel like sacrifice has begun to feel like joy. Because this is what we've discovered about Jesus:
He is remarkably kind. He doesn't shame us for the places where we've fallen short.
He invites us to repent. He doesn't merely point out the places we've been disobedient.
He makes a way forward. He doesn't take joy away from obedience.
He teaches us that obedience can actually become a delight.
As I look back at those prayers from 2016, I can't help but marvel at the kindness of God. Ten years ago, I wrote words I didn't understand. Ten years later, I'm standing in the middle of a story I couldn't have imagined. And maybe that's what “full circle” really means.
Not that everything happened according to my plan. But that God was faithful through all of it. The prayers. The detours. The missed opportunities. The fear. The waiting. The repentance. The yeses. The noes. And now, somehow, He has brought us to this place.
A place where we get to choose again. To trust again. To obey again. To adventure again.
And maybe that's the most beautiful thing of all: We get another chance to say yes.
So here we go. We're closing some tabs. We're leaving some things behind. We're putting our feet on the road. And we're trusting the One who has been faithful through every season to lead us into the next one.
Jesus is simply so kind.
Some days I still find myself weeping over His goodness to us.
His patience. His mercy. His faithfulness. His ability to take our little, imperfect yes and somehow weave it into something far more beautiful than we could have planned ourselves.
He's worth it all. And we're excited to bring you along for the journey.
If you are reading this, we love you deeply. It is an honor to live open, free and transparent with you. We pray that you may feast on the goodness of God through our testimonies and our lives. More is coming. <3
