Where New Beginnings Take Root

In the days that followed the first wave of demolition, the transformation continued — not only inside the house, but around it.

As walls were opened indoors, the outside of the house began to change as well. Siding was carefully pulled away, revealing wood gables from a time long past. Hidden layers emerged — craftsmanship and structure that had quietly endured beneath the surface for decades.

The old wood was removed with care, and fresh wood was placed in its stead. It felt less like erasing the past and more like honoring it — acknowledging what had been while making room for what is needed now.

At the same time, a fence was taken down to allow room for the addition and to make way for the dirt crew. Heavy equipment arrived, and the ground began to be prepared for the new foundation.

There is something deeply symbolic about watching the earth be opened.

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” — Isaiah 43:19

And still, new beginnings often ask something of us.

A special flowering tree had to be removed — one we had taken countless family photos by over the years. Its loss broke my heart more than I expected. It held memory. Laughter. Seasons marked in blooms and shadows.

But in a moment of quiet kindness, the dirt guy noticed how hard it was for me. Without being asked, he graciously offered to dig a new spot for the tree and replant it at the end of the new addition.

I was deeply touched.

It felt like a holy pause — a reminder that transition does not mean forgetting. That which is rooted can sometimes be moved, not discarded. That care still matters, even in the midst of heavy work.

I’m praying that tree survives. And if it does, it will stand as a living testimony: not everything is lost — some things are simply carried forward into a new season

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.”  Ecclesiastes 3:1

During this same stretch of days, life was unfolding in another beautiful way.

My newest grandchild, Naomi, arrived.

Though far away in Michigan, the news reached us quickly — photos, messages, tiny details announcing her arrival. In the midst of exposed framing, bare earth, and shifting ground, her birth felt like a holy interruption.

Another beginning.

Another reminder that while buildings change and land is reshaped, life continues to unfold with breathtaking grace

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.”  Ecclesiastes 3:11

The house was being opened. The land was being prepared. A tree was being replanted. And a child was being born.

New beginnings everywhere — layered, simultaneous, sacred.

This season is teaching me that God rarely does just one thing at a time. While He is reshaping what we can see, He is also birthing what we cannot yet imagine.

“Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning.”  Lamentations 3:22–23

Nothing is wasted. Nothing is forgotten. Everything is being carried forward — replanted, renewed, and prepared for what comes next.