we are home.

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we are home

After two and a half months of hustle, rejection, hope, heartbreak, and miracles, we made it. We're officially back in New Orleans. What began in August 2024 with 32 job applications and only two responses turned into the wildest series of divine connections, unexpected provision, and open doors we never could’ve orchestrated ourselves. In October, we told the world we were moving back—and then nothing happened. For a long time, it felt like the wind had been taken from our sails. But God kept whispering that when it did happen, it would happen all at once. And that’s exactly what happened.

On December 19, I received a random Instagram DM about a potential remote position at a digital marketing agency. To be honest, I was skeptical. I’d done remote work before and didn’t enjoy it. I also assumed working in-person in New Orleans was essential to building relationships and understanding the city’s rhythm. But I followed the prompting and met with the team. Five meetings later—on February 6—I received a full-time offer, a salary larger than I’d ever had, and a signing bonus to help us move to New Orleans. I put in my two weeks’ notice at OSU the next day. A few days later, we learned we’d be receiving over $12,000 from our tax return—just enough to cover every moving expense from trucks to deposits to furniture. God was setting the table.

With finances secured, we set our eyes on housing. We had a list of saved rentals but didn’t know enough about the neighborhoods to choose without seeing them in person. That’s when a family member gifted us a few nights in a New Orleans Airbnb so we could house-hunt in person. We loaded our three kids into a rented minivan and made the 14-hour trek on February 12. That night, tired and hungry, we walked to a spot called Dat Dog for dinner and were approached by a local woman admiring our baby. Turns out she wasn’t just a kind stranger—she was a real estate agent who’d worked in New Orleans for over 40 years. Her name was Ro, and she became a divine connection at just the right time.

We started our house tours the next morning, beginning with our top choice. It was perfect—ideal layout, within budget, great location—but the owner had already rented it out. Our hearts sank. The rest of the day was full of dead ends. Places we’d saved were off the market, unresponsive, or unavailable. Hope was wearing thin. But one home lingered in our list—on Jena Street, just off Magazine, with a master bedroom balcony (a dream of mine). We hadn’t heard back from the listing agent, but Ro made some calls and got us a tour scheduled for the next morning. Turns out, the agent had car trouble and was stranded—another reason Ro's connection proved so timely.

We toured the home and fell in love. High ceilings, two bathrooms, beautiful wood floors, and walking distance to everything. The only problem? No pets allowed. We have a French bulldog. And as if that wasn’t enough of a barrier, I hadn’t even started my new job yet, had no pay stubs, and was applying from 12 hours away. I filled out the rental application at the park while the kids played. As we drove away, Naomi said, “This is our fleece, like Gideon. If they accept this weak application—with our dog—we’ll know it’s God.” That night, at 9:28 p.m., Ro called. We were approved. With the dog.

We had a home.

We drove back to Stillwater on February 16 to wrap things up and figure out our next steps. We still had loose ends—no lease signed, no money for the deposit, no official start date. To make matters more complicated, Mardi Gras was approaching, which would make moving into the city with a truck nearly impossible. We didn’t know how it would all come together.

Then, a snowstorm hit Stillwater. We were stranded at Naomi’s parents' house for three days, which turned out to be the biggest blessing. It gave me the space to problem-solve and pray. During that time, I had a pre-scheduled call with some friends and shared our situation. Without hesitation, they offered to cover our startup costs—thousands of dollars—and insisted we not pay them back. Less than 24 hours later, our tax return hit the account. That was the catalyst.

We packed on February 21. Loaded the U-Haul on February 22. Hit the road on February 23. Arrived in New Orleans on February 24. We were home.

Our parents made the journey with us. We couldn’t have done it without them. After six years of preparation, waiting, wondering, and wrestling, God fulfilled His promise.

It’s now been a month since we arrived, and our life here is full. I started my new job at Black Fox Media, and I’m loving it. I get to help churches with their communication and marketing strategies, and I feel like I was made for it. We experienced our first Mardi Gras and it was wild in the best ways. We adore our landlord, Ms. Abbrica Callaghan, who loves Jesus and is thrilled to have us on Jena Street. Our neighborhood is filled with young families, community-minded professionals, and the kind of people who love where they live. The kids already have new friends. We’re eating good food, making new memories, and settling into a city we’ve prayed about for years.

God prepared every step of this journey. And He continues to meet us with provision, people, and purpose every single day. We’re home. And we’re just getting started.