I finished packing the last box in our little apartment and stood there for a moment, taking it all in. It’s funny how a place can hold so much of your life without ever really being yours. The walls, the floors, the windows, they were all a temporary part of my life. But what happened inside them was anything but.
My apartment became a landing place for me. After my house sold, after my marriage unraveled and life deteriorated in ways I never expected, this is where I came to rest. It wasn’t big, and it didn’t have space for everything. There were things it lacked, and I knew that from the beginning, but somehow it had exactly what I needed. It gave me room to breathe.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t responsible for maintaining something that felt too heavy for me to carry. I didn’t have a yard to manage or a house that echoed with emptiness. It was just enough space for me, for my son, and for the quiet work that God was doing in my heart.
The apartment, however, was not a place to build my forever. Sometimes God does that. He places us in temporary spaces, not because He’s forgotten about the bigger picture, but because He’s focused on something deeper. He’s less concerned with where we’re going to live long-term and more concerned with what He wants to do inside of us right now.
Looking back, I can see how much He simplified my life in that season. There had been so much confusion before, so many decisions to make, so many emotions tied up in what had been lost and what was still uncertain. But in the middle of it all, God kept gently leading me toward the simplest next step. Not the most impressive one, not the one that looked the best on paper, just the simplest.
Temporary Seasons Are Still Sacred
Times of waiting, times of transition, and temporary seasons can feel uncertain, but they are often incredibly purposeful. In fact, I think those are the very places where God does some of His deepest teaching. We’ve heard the saying, “It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey,” and I believe that’s exactly where God meets us, in the journey.
That season wasn’t just about leaving a house; it was about letting go of an entire way of life. I downsized to a small apartment, and along the way, I gave much of what I owned to Ukrainian refugees who were just beginning again themselves. What I was left with was a much simpler life, and if I’m honest, I needed it to be simple because I didn’t have it in me to carry anything more.
There’s a lot of advice out there that says not to make major decisions in the middle of trauma, and I understand the wisdom in that. But I also believe that choosing to simplify your life during those seasons can be one of the healthiest decisions you can make. Fewer decisions creates space. And when you’re hurting, space matters.
Pain takes up more room than we realize, and processing it takes energy. My apartment didn’t have room for excess. It barely had room for anything beyond what was necessary. But what it did have was just enough room for God to meet us there.
Now, as I pack up and prepare to leave for a new place, one that is better suited for this next season, I find myself emotional. That small, simple space became sacred to me. And while I know it’s time to move on, and I’m grateful for what’s ahead, I also know this: I will always be thankful for that temporary place that held us while God was restoring what had been broken.
God Untangles What We Can’t
There was another layer to the simplicity God was leading me into, and it went far beyond just the physical. Yes, downsizing my home and letting go of possessions created space, but what God was really after was something deeper. He began to show me that it wasn’t just my surroundings that needed to be simplified, it was my emotional and spiritual life too.
I can remember a time during our separation when everything was an argument between my ex-husband and I. There was so much tension, so much hurt, and it didn’t take much for things to escalate into another painful confrontation. In that season, my emotions were strong, my reactions were quick, and I had a solid reason to justify every response. But in the middle of all of that, I felt God calling me to something different. Over and over again, I sensed Him asking me to keep my life simple.
Even when my responses felt justified, I had to ask myself whether I was engaging in a moment that was actually good for me. Would my responses bring peace, or would it create more emotional clutter? Would it lead to healing, or would it leave behind another wound that I would have to carry later? I began to realize that every interaction was a decision. I could choose something that made my life harder, or something that made it simpler.
Scripture tells us in 1 Corinthians 14:33 that God is not a God of confusion but of peace. And in James 3:16, we’re reminded that where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice. I could see that playing out in real time. The more I gave in to reaction, the more complicated and chaotic things became. But the more I paused and chose peace, the more space there was for God to work.
That often meant letting go of control. It meant letting go of the need to prove I was right. It meant choosing actions that wouldn’t require healing later. I was already wounded, there was no reason to keep creating more wounds. God was teaching me that sometimes the strongest thing you can do is to step back, stay quiet, and choose what leads to peace instead of what feeds the conflict.
Dealing with the consequences of our actions complicates our lives, so in order to keep things simple we must choose actions that don’t create consequences later.
I also began simplifying other decisions. I stopped overcomplicating my days and gave myself more time to rest. I didn't feel better at first, but with each decision, I felt God gently guiding to a life of peace over time.
Because God has a sense of humor, during this time I kept revisiting a memory of a bad hair day from my teenage years. I remember going on a family camping trip. I was riding in my cousin’s truck with the windows down for the hourlong drive. My hair does not do well in that kind of wind, and by the time we got there, it was completely tangled. I'm talking knotted in ways I didn’t even think were possible. I had to get in the shower and absolutely soak it in conditioner just to begin working those knots out. It took time and multiple treatments to slowly untangle what had been twisted up.
That’s what this season felt like. A really bad hair day.
No, I’m not comparing God to hair conditioner, but that’s what He does in our lives. We tangle things up. We make decisions, react in ways that feel right in the moment, and before we know it, everything feels knotted and overwhelming. We don’t even know where to begin. But when we start doing things His way, those knots begin to loosen. Slowly, gently, things begin to untangle.
Jesus says in Matthew 11:28–30, Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest… For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
I had to learn that I would rather make a hard decision in the moment than live with a hard consequence for years. There were so many things I could have said, so many moments where I could have reacted, and maybe I would have even been justified. But I reached a point where I realized I had to take responsibility for the level of complication in my own life. It’s hard in the moment, but it makes life so much lighter in the long run.
Healing, I’ve found, is not loud or dramatic. It’s quiet. It’s steady. And it takes time to untangle the knots we’ve created. Even now, there's times I can feel myself wanting to return to old patterns, and in those moments I sense God gently reminding me. Keep it simple.
God Doesn’t Stop Working When We Move On
I didn’t want to keep learning the same lessons over and over again. I didn’t want to stay stuck in a cycle of hurt, pain, and repetition. I wanted to move forward. And I began to understand that moving forward isn’t about winning arguments or proving a point in the moment. It’s about choosing what leads to life. God is far more concerned with healing our hearts than He is with us being right. He wants us out of the hurt, out of the chaos, and into something better. Not ignoring the past, but learning from it without continuing to live in it.
Scripture tells us in Isaiah 43:18–19, Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! That doesn’t mean our past doesn’t matter. It means it doesn’t have to define where we stay. At some point, we have to make a decision to stop digging the same hole and instead let God lead us out of it.
True forward movement means stepping into the life God is calling us to. A life marked not by complication, but by simplicity and peace. We are not here to live in constant striving, to outdo one another, or to win every disagreement. We are here to grow, to love, to forgive, and to further His kingdom.
We all carry regrets. We all have things we wish we had done differently. But Romans 8:28 reminds us that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him. In my life, He used a small apartment in the city to pull me out of chaos, to remind me of my purpose, and to walk with me into something new.
Thankfully, God is not confined to a location. He won't stay behind when I leave this place.
God goes with us.
He goes with us into the next home, the next season, the next calling. He walks with us as we grow, as we learn, and as we continue becoming who He created us to be. He is patient with our pace. He knows what we can handle. And sometimes, He slows us down, not to hold us back, but to restore us and let us experience the peace that comes from walking closely with Him.
His ways are good. They are steady. They are full of mercy.
And if we are willing to follow Him, He will lead us into a life of purpose, peace, and quiet transformation.
