I’m Moving Back to Kansas After 8 Years in California. Here Are My Honest Reflections
My husband and I have lived in Southern California since we were 18 years old, and now, after 8 years of living in what I’d consider to be one of the most beautiful places in the United States, we’re moving back to my Kansas roots.
It’s June 6, 2024—and we have T-14 days until me, my man, and our 60-pound poodle are rolling out of here in a 16-foot Penske truck that holds 15 houseplants, all of our belongings, and a whole lotta memories.
The feeling is bittersweet…
I know that God is calling us back to Kansas, but it doesn’t change the fact that we’ve spent our entire adult lives here.
California is the place where I met the love of my life. It’s where places like Yosemite and Big Sur have reignited my long-dormant love for the outdoors. It’s where I picked up hundreds of pounds of trash off the beach, started making my own laundry detergent and all-purpose cleaner and almond butter, and began practicing the Sabbath.
It’s where I realized that I’m no longer fulfilled by things, trends, trips, or get-rich-quick-schemes. But by nourishing meals around the dinner table with friends who breathe the life back into you. By slow Saturday mornings spent reading a good book on the couch while the morning light pours in. By long walks on the Back Bay with my boys, soaking up the sunshine and wildflowers and fresh air.
It’s where I struggled with my mental health the most. Where, after a scary depressive episode in 2019, Jordan drove me an hour and a half away to the only psychiatrist that was covered by my insurance. I quickly learned that I’m nothing without Jesus. That I’d be long-gone without Him. John 15:5: “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”
It’s where I turned into a zealot when it comes to what our modern society has done to us—indoctrinating us with ultra-processed food, artificial smells (can we all please agree to stop buying Febreze air fresheners and petroleum-based candles?), chemical-ridden makeup, shampoo, soap, laundry detergent, and everything else you see that comes in a plastic container that’ll take at least 500 years to decompose (I warned you I was a zealot…).
I write all this, because I want to document this time. This monumental time as a 27-year-old girl who’s moving across the country—husband in tow—back into her parent’s house in the midwest.
Amongst the several tears I’ve cried over the past 6 months since making the decision to move, there are a few things we’re incredibly excited about…
Since we’re moving in with my parents, we’re able to pay off our debt in just 12 months—something we couldn’t have done while living in California. Jordan is in full-on Dave Ramsey mode, and I’m here for it.
After our debt is paid off, we get to start saving for our first home—another thing we couldn’t have done in California, maybe ever.
My dream is to own land—10-20 acres. Chickens, a greenhouse, a dairy cow (?), the whole nine yards. Kansas is a huge stepping stone in making that dream a reality.
It’s funny how just 8 years of one’s life can be so full-circle.
18-year-old Caroline wanted to escape Kansas and never look back. Now, it’s calling her back loud and clear.
The day my parents dropped me off at college, September 5, 2015
So, with these racing thoughts now on paper, I go into these final two weeks with presence, gratitude, and peace—finding pockets of stillness amongst the boxes and to-do lists.
As our good friend, Hillary, just prayed over us tonight, may we feel a supernatural bliss during this move. May we view it as an adventure. May we have the biggest belly laughs we’ve ever had.
That’s exactly how I want this move to feel. And so I meditate on that prayer—that affirmation—day and night.
Thank you, Jesus, for the breadcrumbs you’ve been consistently dropping since the start of this year. These gentle—yet persistent—nudges have been our roadmap, guiding us to where you want us next.
Now one last thing before I go, because it’s only right to sign off with a good ole wholesome quote…
“How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
But it's not goodbye. It's see you later.
xx, Caroline
