Today, I am in the thick of transition.
Boxes packed. Walls bare. Rooms echoing with memories I’d rather forget. The hardest part isn’t the physical move—it’s the emotional weight of it all. Because this isn’t just about leaving a house. This is about closing a chapter I once prayed would be my forever.
Dismantling my daughter’s nursery broke me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I remember dreaming about bedtime routines, lullabies, and peaceful mornings filled with laughter. I imagined our family growing together in love and unity.
But that dream… it changed. And facing the truth of that has been one of the most painful journeys of my life. This house never became a home. The walls have seen too much—too many tears, too many silent screams. It’s a space that was supposed to hold love, but instead held loneliness, control, and pain.
Still, in the middle of the chaos and the crushing emotions, one thing remains constant: God.
Even when I’m overwhelmed with anxiety, even when the memories threaten to drown me—He is here. He hasn’t left me. He’s walking with me. And I truly believe His plans are greater than the ones I tried so hard to hold onto.
This move is more than a change of address. It’s a declaration. I’m choosing myself. I’m choosing healing. I’m choosing peace. I’m choosing keeping my children safe and protected. And above all, I’m choosing to trust the God who’s been with me in every dark moment.
To anyone else going through something similar—You are not alone. The process of letting go is painful, but necessary. There is freedom on the other side of this. There is life after loss. There is beauty after brokenness. And there is hope in Him.
Here’s to rebuilding. To rising. To finally moving out… and truly moving on.
This chapter is over. But this story?
It’s just getting started.
Over & out, Jennie XO
#thejourneecontinues
God,
This isn’t just a move—it’s a rebirth.
I’m not just packing boxes, I’m picking up the pieces of myself and placing them into something stronger, something sacred.
I’m walking away from pain, but I’m walking toward something holy—healing, peace, and wholeness.
You’ve surrounded me, not just with Your presence, but with living, breathing reminders of Your love—My Friends.
The women who showed up, rolled up their sleeves, and helped me carry not just furniture and clothes, but the weight I’ve held in silence for so long. They’ve been my backbone, my safe space, the light in moments that felt too dark.
They’ve helped with my daughter and son when I had nothing left to give, lifted me in spirit when I couldn’t see a way forward, and reminded me who I am when I almost forgot.
These strong women—my tribe, my sisters, have been Your hands in motion. They’ve poured love into the cracks that life tried to break. And in them, I’ve seen proof that I was never abandoned. Even in my worst, You were protecting me—through them.
So God, thank You.
For every tear that turned into laughter, for every “you’ve got this” whispered when I needed it most, for every meal, every hug, every moment of “I’ll be there”—they’ve shown up. And because of them, so have I.
As I close this door behind me, I do it with a heart full of gratitude and a spine made of steel. I’m not leaving broken—I’m walking away whole. Covered by grace, carried by love, and held together by women who remind me what strength really looks like.
Always in your name, Amen
LotsofJennie 