How God Spoke to Me When We Moved From Florida to Kentucky

I woke up that hot, muggy morning in May much like every other morning: with a fresh cup of coffee and an in-box full of e-mails. Amidst the unsolicited spam and forwarded urban legends, I found a message from my friend Jean. Short, sweet and to the point:

Dear Sandy,

I woke up in the middle of the night with this scripture on my mind. God told me to send it to you.

Psalm 121
I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you—the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

I’m praying for you!
Love,
Jean

Over the next few weeks, that scripture would prove to sustain me. We were in the process of moving from our home in Florida and relocating to Kentucky. We lived in Florida for eight years, and we loved it. Everything about it, really. We solidified our marriage while living there. Noah was born and died while living there. Rebekah and Elijah were born there. I had great friends, great neighbors and a thriving ministry.

There’s lots of sunshine in Florida. Oh, and there’s an ocean there too. An ocean only 20 minutes from our house. Incidentally, the ocean is my favorite place on the planet, just so you know. (sigh……)

But there we were moving to Kentucky, where the nearest ocean was, ironically,in Florida.

Every visit with friends was for the sole purpose of savoring the final moments before saying goodbye. And every other minute of every single day was designated to packing up and tying up loose ends.

My house barely resembled the home I worked so hard to build. It was the “fake house” we showed to the prospective buyers. The house with no appliances on the counter tops, no toys on the floor and no food in the oven. Instead, we had neutral walls, burning candles and smooth jazz playing in the background. (who lives like this, really?)

Moving to Kentucky meant my husband would have the job of his dreams. But for me, it meant starting over. New house, new friends, new neighbors, new church, new doctor. And worst of all—NEW HAIR GUY!!!!! (I paid dearly for this move by way of bad hair for the first two years we lived here. My husband owes me big time.)

So on that hot morning in May, before I began the craziness of strapping my 2-year-old and my 4-year-old into the car seat so I could create the “fake house,” and drive them around while strangers decided if they liked or disliked my floor plan, I meditated on the verse my dear friend sent me. Every single word jumped out at me. Every. Single. Word. I was so thankful for a God who would send a message to me just at the right time. And for a friend who was sensitive enough to hear God’s voice on my behalf.

I read and re-read that precious Psalm. Over the next two months, it became my daily bread. Though the flurry of May and June often left me emotionally and physically exhausted, I stood on God’s promise. Trusting God knew where we were and where we were going, trusting that He’d keep us from all harm, and trusting that He’d not let our feet slip, I found strength to do what I had to do: Say goodbye to everything I loved and trust God.

Before I knew it, we were driving away from our Florida home and heading North.

Yehaw.

After settling into our new house, one of our first priorities was finding a church. With a toddler and a preschooler who had just had their world turned upside-down, this task proved more difficult than I anticipated. Week-by-week I peeled my screaming babies off me to put them in yet, another unfamiliar childcare situation with more strangers, more change, and more transition. Meanwhile, Jon and I tried to make a snapshot decision whether this would be “our new church home.”

All I wanted to do was establish some roots. Find some friends. Connect with some families. But even that was proving to be emotionally and physically exhausting.

One particular Sunday morning, I finally reached my limit. The kids were crying. I was crying. And I found myself seething in the back row of another strange, new church with a freaked out toddler on my lap, wondering what the heck God was thinking when He told us to move from beautiful, comfortable, Florida to strange, uncomfortable Kentucky.

Just about then, the pastor interrupted the worship service to address the congregation.
“Sorry,” he began as the music ceased, “You know I don’t usually do this, but this scripture is really on my heart, and I feel like there is someone here who needs to hear it.” He then opened up his bible and began reading:

I lift up my eyes to the hills— where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you—the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

Lesson Learned: God knows exactly where I am. He will never leave me or forsake me, even when my physical location changes. And He will interrupt a friend’s sleep and a church worship service in two different states to make sure that I know it. Not only that, but a pastor who clearly hears the voice of God makes one fabulous pastor.

P.S. This incident was pivotal in our decision to choose a church and put down roots. We ultimately decided this would be our church home, and it still is, eleven years later.

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This post is updated from the archives.
Original run date: February 8, 2009