Forever Faithful

I woke up this morning with a song already stirring in my spirit. Forever YHWH by Jordan G Welch played on repeat in my mind, and before I could even make sense of why, the lyrics cut straight to my core. It felt as though even in my sleep, my spirit remembered what my mind sometimes struggles to hold steady. God is the beginning and the end. The be all and end all.

There are moments in life where words fall short, and reverence takes over. This morning was one of those moments. When I think about The Inn, I cannot help but fall to my knees in gratitude. I am overwhelmed by the faithfulness of a God who keeps every word and every promise He made to me long before I ever met my husband, and who continues to honour those promises even now within our union.

The story of The Inn began as more than a desire for a house. It was born from a longing to create what Mary and Joseph were denied. A place where there is always room. Always a welcome. Always an open door. A home where there is an extra seat at the table, a soft place to land, and an invitation to belong.

To be standing just weeks away from that dream becoming tangible feels nothing short of miraculous. To have a place in this world that we can call our own moves my heart beyond what words could ever articulate. It is not just bricks and mortar. It is evidence. It is testimony. It is promise fulfilled.

What makes this moment even more humbling is the scale of what God has entrusted to us. Three thousand square meters of land. Space to breathe. Space to gather. Space to build, restore, plant, host, and make room. This is not just provision, it is abundance with intention. A living, breathing reminder that when Scripture says He can do exceedingly, abundantly above and beyond all we could ask or imagine, those words are not poetic sentiment, they are reality unfolding before our eyes. What once felt impossible, excessive even, has become the very canvas upon which His faithfulness is being displayed.

At church yesterday, a guest pastor, an astronomer, spoke about the meticulous care God took in setting the stars and galaxies into place. He spoke of precision, of divine instruction, of how everything remains exactly where God positioned it. Nothing has drifted. Nothing is misplaced. Everything continues to obey the order He established. This message landed deeply for me. If God is that intentional with the heavens, how much more assured can we be that everything He has spoken over our lives will also come to pass. Not loosely. Not vaguely. But exactly as He intended.

As I plan our garden's landscape, choosing snapdragons and hydrangeas, I am reminded of the language of seeds. Of how what we plant in one season often sprouts in another. Of how long it can feel when nothing seems to be happening beneath the surface. And yet, growth is still occurring. Roots are forming. Strength is being built.

Time, faithfulness, and patience are essential ingredients in any harvest. But harvest season also requires action. The gathering. The stewardship. The willingness to step into what has finally grown. Otherwise, what was cultivated with care risks being left unattended.

This home was not the result of a straight line or a perfectly timed checklist. It came through waiting, rerouting, pausing, hoping again, and learning to follow God gently rather than force outcomes. There were seasons where the plan made sense, and seasons where it absolutely did not. And still, somehow, we were led. Not rushed. Not dragged. Just led.

So finally, is the beginning of our next chapter. A home we are calling The Inn. A place shaped by faith, family, restoration, and open doors. A reminder that surrender is not loss. It is alignment. And that even when obedience feels costly, the return is always richer than we could imagine.

And as we step into this new season, I am deeply excited to share the journey with you. To invite you behind the scenes as we convert this house into a home, a home into a sanctuary, and a sanctuary into The Inn. In partnership with Sanctuary Ekhaya, there will be work done, intentional work, thoughtful design, and meaningful restoration, and I will be sharing glimpses of that process along the way. Not just what we build, but why we build it. Not just how it looks, but how it feels to live surrendered, faithful, and expectant in the middle of it all.

There is, and will always be, room at The Inn.