A Home-Warming Toast in a Season of Waiting
This week felt like a roller coaster that slowed to a crawl at the end. We tasted hope—an interview in Florida that seemed to check every box: stability, family nearby, a shorter commute, the kind of rhythm I’ve been praying for. I let my heart run ahead to what life could look like, and then the answer was “not this time.” Right after that, we had a scare and ended up in the ER with my baby. Praise God, everything is okay. But the swing from excitement to confusion left me holding questions I can’t answer yet.
In the middle of it, work has been good. Coordinating, leading, serving—it reminds me I’m built to care for people. I’m still seeking a full-time role, and I’m also seriously considering nursing—especially pediatrics. Not only because it aligns with my work, but because I would like to finish the first career I started when I came to America, and because I want the knowledge to care for children, starting with my own, and for the little ones I see in news every week. I’m asking for your prayers: for wisdom, timing, and provision. If we stay, I plan to study with commitment. If we move and my husband lands full-time work, we’ll adjust as a family. We’re holding Florida with open hands because it’s where our Christian family is and a place we could see ourselves thriving. For now, we’re in the “in-between,” trusting the God who knows the end from the beginning.
Scripture steadies me here:
- “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps” (Proverbs 16:9).
- “Commit your way to the Lord… and He will act” (Psalm 37:5).
- “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that” (James 4:15).
Those aren’t verses to shut down desire; they’re invitations to hold desire with God—letting Him shepherd it, reshape it, or reschedule it.
There’s also joy on the horizon: a December trip to see my family in my country. My baby will meet his Colombian abuela and tía for the first time, and that alone fills my cup. Sometimes hope doesn’t arrive through the door we watched; it comes in through another window, warm and bright.
So here’s my home-warming toast—because “home” is where God meets us, whether we’re in Virginia, Florida, or in-between:
To the God who is already in our next address.
When doors close, He isn’t late; He’s loving. He withholds no good thing (Psalm 84:11), even when His good doesn’t look like our timeline.
To the gift of ordinary faithfulness.
Interviews come and go; calling remains. Today’s obedience builds tomorrow’s capacity. We show up, we serve, we learn, we grow.
To the table of family—near or far.
Community is a prayer God hears. While we wait for roots to spread, He sends people to sit with us, pray with us, and laugh with us.
To the children who teach us courage.
A hospital wristband is a small thing compared to a faithful God. Our little ones stretch our hearts and sharpen our purpose.
To wise decisions made under the light of God’s providence.
We seek first His kingdom (Matthew 6:33), trusting that whatever we need—jobs, classes, cities, timing—will be added in His way.
And now, the toast:
Here’s to homes that hold us and hopes that shape us;
to closed doors that save us time and open doors that fit our feet;
to work that matters and study that serves;
to babies who remind us that every breath is a mercy;
to family that waits with a welcome and friends who pray us through;
and above all, to Jesus—our true shelter, our steady Provider, our faithful Guide.
May our address be less important than our abiding.
May our plans bow gladly to His better plan.
And may this house—wherever it stands—be warm with worship,
busy with kindness, and bright with the peace of Christ.
Amen.
