By Roseanne Dawes

As I sat quietly on the couch in my living room, I suddenly heard a distinct voice in my head say, “This is not your house.” It startled me. I had never thought that before. We’d lived in that home for 15 years, and moving wasn’t even on our radar.

Just minutes later, a text popped up from a casual friend who lived about 20 minutes away. She wrote, “Hey, are you guys thinking of moving? I had a dream last night that we were to move back and buy your home.”
Stunned, I told her what had just happened—that I’d heard those exact words moments before her message. I told her she was welcome to come look at the house if she was serious.

She and her husband came over soon after and seemed genuinely interested in buying it. But I told her we weren’t quite ready. My husband still had a stable job, and he’d just signed a new contract for the school year. We had no clue where we would go if we did move. Still, we felt impressed to keep exploring—to just see where this path might lead. She wasn’t quite ready either. They would need to sell their home first.

A full year passed, and honestly, I had completely forgotten about the idea of moving. Then one day while driving down the freeway in San Francisco on a family vacation with my husband and our youngest daughter, I suddenly thought, “Hmm... I haven’t heard from Diane in a while. I wonder if she still wants to buy our house?”
I kid you not, just minutes later I got a text from Diane: “Are you guys ready to sell your house?”

I stared at the message in disbelief, then slowly turned to my husband and asked, “Are we ready to sell the house?”
He paused and said—hesitantly—“Yes.”
So I—hesitantly—replied “yes” to Diane.

We hadn’t mapped out a plan. We had no idea where we would go. But both of us felt calm and peaceful about it. We were used to following these inner promptings, and we’d learned to trust them over the years—even when the road ahead was unclear. We just knew: it was time. No fear. No panic. Just steady, quiet reassurance that we were being led in a different direction, and that all would be well.
Just have faith to believe.

We arranged for Diane and her husband to come look at the house when we got back in town, and they could decide if they still wanted it. They showed up with a measuring tape and someone to help them figure out how to remodel one of the main-floor rooms for her aging mother, who would be living with them. In that moment, I knew—it was a done deal.
And 30 days later, we moved out.

We still didn’t know exactly where we were meant to land, but in the meantime, we were able to rent a small home near my ailing mother. We got to live just minutes away from her during the final four months of her life, and I’ll always treasure those sacred moments we shared.

Then, just a month after she passed, my husband was offered a mid-year teaching position in Salt Lake. We found a miracle home close to his new school—and perfectly central for everything else, too. It’s become a hub! We constantly have friends and family coming to stay, and we have plenty of space to welcome them. It’s been such a blessing.

Best of all, we’re now close to his aging parents. We’ve had countless meaningful moments with them—especially in caring for his father before he passed. That time together was priceless.

I’m so grateful for those quiet nudges. For the sparks that guide us. For a God whose timing is always perfect—even when it doesn’t make sense at the time. Looking back, I’m amazed at the divine orchestration of it all.
I’m just so, so thankful we listened.

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