By Colleen Corbett

Twenty-three years ago, when we built our current home, I was excited to be creating something better than we had ever lived in. I felt certain we were doing something good. I believed in our ability to build the house we wanted. I imagined it clearly and had good feelings about it. I believed I deserved the house and was worthy of receiving it—mostly. At the same time, I worried about whether we’d really be able to pay the mortgage. I told myself many of my ideas were too expensive. I compromised on materials and let go of certain details because I thought we couldn’t afford them.

When we moved into our mostly finished home, I did love it—but it was never quite the house I had truly dreamed of. It was never completely finished, and I always felt like I had stopped short of fully creating. Even now, the yard isn’t quite done, the deck off our bedroom never happened, and the patio on the hill is still just a patch of dirt. We're finally doing many of the updates now—but only because we’re preparing to sell, a decision we delayed for years due to uncertainty about what was next.

Through consistent physical and mental effort, my husband and I finally made a series of decisions. Now, we’re building a new home. We spent time dreaming, visualizing, and imagining what this new chapter would look like—how we’d use the space and what life there would feel like. We got clear on what needed to happen to get started. We hired a contractor, an architect, and an engineer. We bought and sold property. We broke ground. And then… everything stopped.

A wrench hit the gears that had been turning so smoothly. We kept making small, hopeful steps, trying to get traction again, but it felt like slogging through deep, sticky muck. Then COVID hit, and my husband couldn’t work for six weeks. Now we were really stuck. Fear and worry surfaced. The wrench in the process came with more bad news. Doubt crept in, and we began to wonder if this house would ever come to life. We worried about money and became hyper-focused on “what’s the next step?”—so much so that we stopped feeding the dream itself.

When I tried to visualize the house, I couldn’t. My mind questioned everything—the meaning of the delays, my motives, my worthiness, my intuition, my inspiration. I started to believe I was failing the test of faith, and that meant the dream would die. I feared we were slipping back into old patterns.

And yet, even with all that, a part of me stayed hopeful. That quiet voice within still said, “You know you can do this. You know God didn’t bring you this far to fail. You know everything will work out. Trust the process. Trust God. Trust yourself.” I never fully let go of the dream. I didn’t banish the thoughts and ideas that had brought us this far.

Today, I looked at my husband and said, “Let’s talk about our dream again. Let’s refocus on what we know is already ours. Let’s experience gratitude right now for the abundance God has given us. Let’s focus on giving more than getting.”

Today, we are abundant. We are grateful. We are filled with love for this beautiful world we live in. We are thankful for where we are, where we’ve been, and where we’re going. We’re creating the life we desire, and allowing God to shape it through us. We know our home is on its way.

I can feel the peace and joy wash over me as I walk through the front door and say, “I’m home.”

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