Rewoven and Redeemed

“6 pillow choices.”

For some reason, that line caught my eye as I was scrolling social media winding down the workday one Friday in September so I tapped *See more…* The story was from a woman whose writing I’d been reading for a decade and a half, and this is part of the story she wrote this time:

“...There's something about luxury - it resets our nervous system (goodbye, fight or flight!) and reminds us of our dreams, goals and truest identity.

We often hear the call to rise up like Esther, and step into our calling

"For such a time as this."

But I think we don’t pay enough attention to everything that went into that moment - the year of luxury and beautifying and pouring into that she had.

Imagine keeping your head high in the face of decapitation.

Esther had beauty treatments. Oils. Silks. A group of women on the same track. And a mentor to help her come into alignment with the King.

I think many women are trying to be Esther - for their families, businesses, communities, ministries…

But they do not have the routines, preparation, and support needed to rise up…”

I had tears on my face as I read this and my spirit was crying, “Yes!”

We were in the third quarter of a year full of invitations to “Rise up like Esther and step into our calling.” And we were months-deep in the pain and grief of the loss that happens when we do.

No one talks much about what Esther gave up—and not voluntarily!—to step into her calling. She left everything. I remember reading a novel by Roseanna White that opened my eyes to what Esther may have been feeling, what she may have lost when she left her home and family.

But I digress.

This post about pillows resonated so deeply that the moment I realized it wasn’t all theoretical, but an actual invitation to rise up like Esther, I was in. I didn’t care how much the experience would cost, I knew I had to be there and we would find a way. Period.

Then I tapped over to the actual sales page. The retreat ticket was hundreds of dollars *lower* than I expected!

Still, even if the retreat was going to cost less than I expected, it would still cost a pretty penny and we didn’t really have cash to burn.

We were homeless for two months this past year. It wasn’t because we couldn’t pay rent. Sure, it took a loan from a friend to get us over a hump, but it wasn’t money that caused this eviction notice.

It was mold.

Not a literal eviction notice, but having to leave because toxic mold was threatening our health.

Again.

Five years ago Paul and I lost our first home together to toxic mold, but that’s a story for another day. This story is about last summer.

For two months we lived in a hotel, waiting for a new lease to open up, and paying the old one too. We were still on the hook even though this mold situation was due to our neighbor’s negligence, not ours.

Those two months our business was more profitable than most of the rest of the year had been!

But what does any of this have to do with the retreat?

Well, when I read the pillow story we had barely moved into our new apartment. At this point in our lives it was a luxury to simply have an oven and washing machine. Why would I even consider asking for more?

I took my phone to find my husband and ask for his credit card.

Before saying anything about the retreat ticket, I simply pointed to the post with tears in my eyes and said, “This is what you have done for me. Thank you.”

He started calling me his queen before I looked like one.

He poured luxury over me to reset my nervous system,

settling my perpetual state of fight or flight,

and reminded me of my dreams, goals, and truest identity.

My husband calls me to rise up like Esther and step into my calling, “for such a time as this,” and doesn’t neglect everything that goes into that moment—the luxury and beautifying and pouring into that Esther had.

Just like the pillow story said.

Somehow, even through multiple waves of homelessness, my husband has consistently found ways to facilitate my healing through luxury. So I wasn’t surprised when he immediately agreed that I needed to be at this retreat in Texas.

I was the first one to buy a ticket to the ReWoven retreat and I’m glad I did—every seat but one sold out before the “early bird” period was over, and that one sold too!

Between buying my ticket and arriving in Texas for the retreat, I doubted the wisdom repeatedly.

Do I really deserve this retreat?

What if I’m the odd one out in the room?

Will the women all know each other except me?

I was especially worried about that last one. Sure, I’d been reading the retreat hostess’ (Trina’s) writing online for years, but I wasn’t a part of her world. Surely everyone else in the room would be her clients, women she already knew intimately. Maybe they would all know each other too, from group programs and being engaged in Trina’s community.

I wasn’t a part of that world. Would I be welcome?

Would I? I laugh now typing that question, that old doubt. Spoiler alert: I was so welcome at that retreat that one of the attendees asked me to come speak at her next event, and I’m also booked to speak at Trina’s next retreat as well!

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The one who doubts and is double-minded is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.

If I had not bought that ticket immediately, and instead waited for funds, or some sign of confirmation, or time to think it through more thoroughly, I would have missed out.

I’d have missed out on the retreat itself.

And I’d have missed out on everything that has come after.

We rolled into Texas with hardly a dollar in our pocket (cash or credit) and that was a problem, because we were a day early. Our Airbnb reservations wouldn’t kick in for another 24 hours.

Thank God we had our van and a local contact with a place to park it.

A local contact we’d never met, but who was also attending the ReWoven retreat and was gracious enough to welcome us in. Her family let us park outside their home and use their bathroom early the next morning. Sometimes it’s the simplest, messiest things that lay the firmest foundations for community.

We started falling in love with the town during our extra exploration day.

Then the retreat happened and it was everything expected and more. Life changing. It felt like walking through a portal into a new world, a world I was made to live in.

And then it came time to leave.

I was afraid this would be one of those summer-camp-romance, mountain-top experiences that feel great while you’re in them—before you come back down and have to return to real life.

Except that this time instead of walking into an amazing experience and then walking out, I walked through it and came out the other side.

I got to keep the change.

We spent an extra day afterward exploring the area and imagining the possibility of living there.

Once our lease was up in Kansas we were wanting to move somewhere else anyway. In fact, when we had moved back to Kansas a year and a half ago, we knew we weren’t putting down roots. We’d been keeping our eyes and ears open for possible places to call home for years, but every door up to this point had closed.

Up to this point.

Fredericksburg Texas may be a small town, but with nearly 1500 vacation rental options, it’s a choice destination—even recognized as such by Airbnb itself! I got to experience this from the inside when I attended the ReWoven retreat in October.

Passing guest house after airbnb after charming small hotel opened up our vision for Civilized Animal Productions: We’re amazing at giving virtual event hosts a peaceful hosting experience, why not expand that to in-person events?

There are a lot of reasons why not.

But as we explored and experienced the area, we didn’t worry about that. We focused on expanding our vision.

Our last day in the area we got to sit down with Trina (the ReWoven retreat hostess) and her husband and the vision exploded. Not only did I get officially added to the very short speaker list for her next retreat, we also got to hear a little more of what went into this event from behind the scenes.

Beyond a business contact though, I had found a friend.

A new friend.

An old friend.

Remember? I had been peeking into this woman’s world for a decade and a half. I’d read her story of meeting and marrying her husband almost in real time, so sitting in her living room while my three children played with her six was surreal.

We knew we would be back.

I assumed that meant February. After all, that was when our lease was up and that was when I’d be speaking at the next retreat.

Over the next few weeks I kept tabs on a few Zillow listings and my new local friends kept their eyes out for rent signs. I found a listing for a 3-bed, 1-bath within our budget, but there were no photos included. I mentioned it to Trina, wondering out loud whether she’d be able to swing by sometime and take a look at it. She said of course she would and in trying to find the address again we found an entirely new listing instead: a 4-bed, 2-bath—also with no real photos attached to the listing, and somehow within our budget.

I figured it was too good to be true, but with how excited Trina was we requested a walk-through right away.

We had hoped to be shown something during the house showing, but photos and video were strictly forbidden during the walk-through and we were ten hours away. I understand respecting the current tenants, but how were we supposed to decide whether to move to someplace we’d never even seen?

By faith.

You may not understand the weight of that.

Sure, it’s nerve-wracking for anyone to move to a place sight-unseen, but for me this is unheard of. Losing a home to mold not once but twice makes me an extra level of anxious when moving to a new place. I want to stick my nose into every nook and cranny before even considering staying there for more than a few hours, let alone signing a lease agreement.

And yet here we are:

Signing a lease agreement before 2022 comes to a close

For a home we’ve never seen

In a town we didn’t know existed a few months ago

“By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going”

We go—like Abraham—by faith:

By faith in God, who is calling us to live on the edge. It’s terrifying, but the view is breathtaking.

By faith in His Church, who walked through on our behalf, using their own sensitivity to judge this place’s safety.

By faith in each other, my husband trusting my discernment and I trusting his to stay on the same page.

My new old friend Trina walked through the house less than a month after she and I met in person for the first time—by faith. She and her husband have stood by us in this season of uncertainty as the logic and the budget and the doubts try to rock us like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.

And today they get to stand by us in the place that we are to receive as an inheritance.

By faith.