When Four Walls Feel too Small
Change has a funny way of announcing itself before it arrives. It whispers through cramped spaces, speaks through children who’ve outgrown shared rooms, and shouts through the creative silence of a musician with nowhere to make music. Lately, I’ve been hearing these whispers grow louder in our 950-square-foot (condo) apartment- a space that once felt like home now feels like a cocoon we’re ready to shed.
The reality of this situation is glaring. Moving to a larger apartment would cost at least $1,000 more monthly, and homeownership in our neighborhood starts at $700,000. These aren’t just numbers on a paper; they’re the barriers that seem insurmountable when viewed through human eyes alone. Yet something deeper stirs up in me- knowing that God is orchestrating something beyond what I can see in the physical.
Our current space tells the story of a family in transition. The oldest daughter in the home desperately needs her own room, tired of the constant battles with her younger sister. My fiancé, a musician, struggles to create in an environment where thin walls and close neighbors stifle his artistic expression. I’ve transformed our bedroom into my office, blurring the lines between rest and work in ways that feel unsustainable. Even the simplest of tasks like laundry that have become expeditions to the laundromat, are reminders of the limitations we’re learning to navigate.
The practical solution seems clear: buy our current place, invest in necessary repairs, rent it out, and move somewhere that better fits our growing family but even this requires faith over fear, resources over restriction, and timing that aligns with God’s perfect plan rather than my urgent desires.
As my fiancé and I work toward marriage and continue building our businesses, I recognize this familiar feeling: the pressure of change creeping in like dawn breaking over the horizon. I’ve stood at these crossroads before, and each time, God has proven faithful. The discomfort of outgrowing our current season isn’t punishment- it’s preparation.
The beauty of this moment lies not in having all the answers but in maintaining hope despite the questions. Philippians 1:6 reminds me that God’s work in our lives is ongoing, intentional, and will reach completion in His perfect timing. This verse has become the anchor to this tension I navigate between present limitations and future posibilites.
The walls of our small apartment may feel confining, but they cannot contain the expansiveness of God’s plans for our family. As we prepare marriage, business growth, and for the next chapter of our story, I’m learning that sometimes the most acute changes begin in the smallest spaces, watered by faith and nurtured by trust in the One who makes all things new.
Change is coming, and I’m ready to embrace it with open hands and a hopeful heart.
