by: Jenny

After four and a half years in Georgia, I finally made my way back home to Illinois. What I thought would be a fresh start turned into a sacred season of healing, silence, and rediscovery — and now, as I settle into this new chapter, I can finally say with peace in my heart: I am home.

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Hi Lovies-

It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to write, and honestly, it feels good to be back. Life has been full — in the messy, beautiful, soul-stretching way that reminds you you’re alive. The last few months have been a whirlwind of packing, moving, and letting go, and now that the dust has settled, I finally have space to breathe and reflect.

What follows is a bit of that reflection — a heart offering about leaving Georgia, coming home to Illinois, and what it means to find peace in the places (and people) that shape us.

This move was brutal—layered, exhausting, and sacred all at once. My focus had to be on the task at hand, and honestly, I didn’t quite know what I wanted to say until now. It’s taken time to process that it actually happened—to gather my thoughts on my years in Georgia and how it feels to be back home in the Chicago area.

When I’m processing big things, I tend to get quiet. Not great for a “blogger” or a “writer”—and I use those terms loosely because imposter syndrome creeps in sometimes.

We’ve now been back in Illinois for nine days, and there’s a part of me that feels like I never left Illinois, like those last four and a half years in Georgia were just a dream. Then there’s another part that feels like I’m still on vacation, waiting to head back any day now. But as I sit here in my new home—on my couch, watching the drizzle out my back window—I feel nothing but deep gratitude that the Georgia chapter is complete.

I’m thankful for my time there and the few special people who will forever hold a piece of my heart. But oh, how I missed these fall days—the ones that beg for a cup of tea or apple cider and a good book.

Here, everything I need is within reach. My family is near. And at 42, I’ve learned there’s nothing more important than that.

I’ll never regret my time in Georgia, though I do ache for the years I missed with my family. There’s catching up to do.

Georgia helped me heal and gain perspective. I left Illinois to escape my past and all the noise. I needed that distance. But in the quiet of The Golden Isles—without chaos or distraction—I broke. Completely. And in that breaking, I finally had to face myself.

It wasn’t pretty. But those four and a half years became a slow rebuilding. A returning. A finding of myself. I clawed my way out of the abyss and found my footing again—rooted in faith, family, and grace.

I’m still broken, because we all are. But I’m broken in a way that feels honest now. Human. I’m no longer ashamed of where I’ve been. It’s all part of my story.

I realized there was always a piece missing. I couldn’t name it until now—until I was able to sit here in the quiet, home not just in place but in heart.

I am finally home. Whole. Centered.

Georgia and The Golden Isles was a teacher. The woman I became there carries the lessons, the people, and the sacred spaces that shaped her. Thank you, Golden Isles, for the gift of knowing where home truly is. Thank you for the healing that happened among the driftwood and under the Spanish moss. Thank you for helping me find myself and God again.

I am grateful for it all—the good and the hard. But now… I am home. And home is where I intend to stay.

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If I’ve learned anything in this season, it’s that healing doesn’t always look like forward motion — sometimes it’s a long, winding road that circles right back to where you started. But when you return, you’re not the same person who left. You come home softer, stronger, and a little more rooted in who you are.

To those of you who’ve followed my journey — through the quiet seasons and the in-between places — thank you. I’m so glad you’re still here. There’s more to come… new stories, new reflections, and maybe even a few pieces of my heart that I left scattered along the shorelines of Georgia.

Here’s to being home — in body, in heart, and in spirit.

With love and grace,
— Jenny