Helping you find rest through storytelling.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost: God Is Your Navigation

You're not lost; you're being found. You're becoming. Perhaps you need to hear that. The season of wandering may not be as unintentional as it seems. Maybe God does have a plan.

I couldn't see it back then, standing at the door with that 24-hour eviction notice. I couldn't see it sitting in that McDonald’s parking lot with my clothes in the trunk and heavy eyes.

Maybe you're in that situation right now—nowhere to go, no plan, no peace.

This isn't just a story; it's my journey of becoming. I didn't lose my way; I simply shed unnecessary weight.

And that Jeep? That moment? It was heaven's way of saying, "You're not lost. You're being led. Not all who wander are lost."

The Eviction & The Conference

I had just moved into a beautiful two-bedroom apartment. I still remember the day I received the approval—I couldn't believe that I had qualified. It felt like a miracle. However, I didn’t realize at the time that this place was not just a source of comfort; it was part of God's plan for my healing. God urged me to be alone, to heal, and to listen to Him. But I didn't heed His message. I allowed people to move in, trying to be strong and helpful, but in reality, I was pretending everything was okay. I was holding my breath while God was the one breathing for me.

During that time, I was passionately organizing my first women’s conference, a vibrant gathering filled with empowerment and inspiration—a true dream unfolding before me. Yet, behind that glorious facade, the harsh reality of impending eviction loomed over me. My life did not follow a traditional career path; I was an entrepreneur, navigating the unpredictable waters of self-employment. While I managed to scrape by, it was far from enough to sustain an entire household.

On the closing day of the conference, I returned home, my heart buoyed by the uplifting moments and connections I had experienced, only to be confronted by the stark reality of an eviction notice stuck to my door, demanding that I vacate within 24 hours. I had devoted my energy to uplifting others, exposing my vulnerabilities, and seeking connection. Yet, in that moment of need, it seemed no one was able to help me. I realized then that I had no choice but to return home and face the difficult reality that awaited me.

Letting Go & The Parking Lot

As I packed my things to leave the apartment, I was determined to stay positive. I remember saying, "God, if this is Your will, I trust You." Still, I couldn't understand why things had to unfold this way. I felt sad, confused, and scared, but I kept reminding myself that there had to be a reason for it all.

With the help of a kind friend, I moved all my belongings into a storage unit. At least my things were safe, but now I found myself without a home and without a plan.

For a moment, I wasn’t alone. One of the women who had helped me during the conference, my assistant, arranged for us to stay at an Airbnb. We stayed there for a few days, but when the money ran out, so did the roof over my head.

She eventually got her own apartment, and while I was genuinely happy for her, I worried about my own shelter and safety. I felt that God was making it clear that I couldn’t stay with them. It wasn’t rejection—it was obedience. And that made it even harder. I knew God was separating me for something deeper, but it still hurt.

That’s how I ended up sitting in my car in a McDonald’s parking lot. I had nowhere else to go. As I sat there, my heart full of questions, my body tired, and my future uncertain, I glanced out the window. A Jeep pulled in nearby. I looked at the back, and on the spare tire cover were the words: “NOT ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST.”

In an unexpected surge, I found myself gasping for breath, as if the very air around me had thickened. In that vulnerable moment, it felt like God was gently whispering to my soul, “Daughter, you’re not lost; you’re being guided.”

With those words echoing in my heart, clarity washed over me. I realized that this was an essential part of my journey. I wasn’t forgotten; rather, I was in the midst of being discovered.

That night, I didn’t remain in the place that had momentarily held me captive; instead, God sent angels in the form of compassionate strangers who rallied together to raise funds for me to find refuge in an Airbnb. Even so, the weight of homelessness clung to me—a heavy, unyielding burden. That fleeting moment of insight transformed my perspective forever.

The Waiting, The Washing, The "Yes"

Even after I arrived at the Airbnb, I didn't feel fully settled. I had a roof over my head, but I still felt homeless inside. It was temporary. And I was worried about tomorrow, but I didn't stop moving.

I went out to apply for an apartment, uncertain if I would be approved because I didn't think I made enough money. However, when I arrived at the complex, the staff was kind. The moment I stepped into the one-bedroom, poolside apartment, something inside me said, "This is me." It felt peaceful. The location was perfect, and the bedroom was beautiful; it truly felt like home.

I prayed quietly in my heart, "God, if this is your will, please bless me with this home."

After my stay at the Airbnb ended, I found myself back in my car, waiting and hoping to hear back about the apartment. Then, I felt a gentle whisper in my heart: "Go wash your car." I did exactly that. As I washed and cleaned, I didn't realize it then, but God was also preparing me for a new season in my life. I had no idea that later, He would lead me to Ghana, a place where He would begin to cleanse me even more deeply. But in that moment, as I wiped down the car, my phone rang.

It was the apartment manager calling. She didn't sound too thrilled, so my heart sank. I was thinking, "Please, not bad news…" But then she said, "You've been approved! You can move in on Wednesday." I couldn't help but cry from happiness.

I was so grateful. I still had nowhere to stay in the meantime, but I stayed briefly with the woman who had helped me before. And then I raised just enough for one more Airbnb—this time, I finally felt peace. I felt God giving me rest.

A Place Called Rest

When I walked into my new apartment for the first time, I couldn't put into words what I felt. There were no fireworks or dramatic emotions—just something profound in my spirit that said: This is it. God is giving me rest.

After all the stress, movement, tears, and wondering… I finally felt safe. It wasn't just about having a roof over my head—it was the spiritual weight lifting.

I sat in the middle of that one-bedroom apartment and said, "God, let this be your home. Let this be your habitation. Make it Yours, and speak to me in this place."

I wasn't just asking for a home—I was asking for His presence. For His direction. For this to be a place where healing would begin.

The Season of Feeling

In that apartment, I began praying again. I also returned to TikTok, hoping to encourage others as I used to. However, when everything became quiet and there were no people around me to help, I had no choice but to confront my feelings. I was accustomed to being strong and supporting everyone else. But in that silence, depression set in. I cried, reflected, prayed, and allowed myself to keep feeling.

Around that same time, a toxic person returned—the 'prophet' (whom I will reference later). I wasn’t sure why the 'prophet' had come back, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t a good sign. Then, strangely, my now-husband reached out to me.

It felt as if God was presenting me with a choice and reminding me of a prophecy someone had spoken over me: "You're about to be married, but beware—a counterfeit will come first." This revelation clarified everything for me.

From the Apartment to Africa

Reconnecting with my now-husband felt like a divine moment; it was as if no time had passed. We picked up right where we left off, but this time, our bond was stronger. I recalled how, months earlier, when we stopped communicating, he had cried and told me, "I love you enough to let you go because I care about your happiness."

And now, here he was again. At the same time, I began to feel God speaking clearly to me: "You will go to Ghana on May 1st. I will provide for you. Your husband is the angel I’ve sent to care for you; he is a suitable, noble man."

I didn’t have everything figured out. I had saved for only one month, but God provided for me step by step. Every dollar I needed came through. I sold everything I owned and left the apartment I had only recently moved into. Then, I flew to Ghana.

The Promise Land

When I landed in Ghana, I couldn’t believe it. I kept thinking, “This is Africa. I’m really standing on African soil.” As a little girl, I dreamed about Africa, and some even prophesied that I would go there one day. However, I never saw how that would happen—especially financially. Yet, against all odds, God made it possible.

That first night, I slept with peace like never before.

No more restlessness. No more survival mode. I felt like God kissed my forehead and said, "Rest, daughter."

It was different. I had to adjust. My one-month stay was coming to an end, and I had no plan. Someone prophesied to me and told me that God said to ask him what I want, and He will do it.

I sat on the edge of the bed and prayed, "God, if it's Your will for me to stay, please let me stay." Moments later, several thousand dollars were deposited into my account. From the Airbnb funds, God provided us with our own tiny one-bedroom home. It wasn't perfect, and neither were we, but God still blessed us.

Shortly after moving in, I felt a stirring in my spirit. I started feeding children in my neighborhood—not out of abundance, but out of a sense of duty. This small act quickly grew into a larger mission. My friend joined me, and together we began providing meals to even more families in the surrounding communities.

The deeper truth is this: I wasn’t sent here to start a ministry; I was sent here to be transformed.

Ghana became my healing ground—a place where God began to develop my character.

It’s where the Lord started shifting my mindset: from wastefulness to stewardship, from fear to contentment, and from brokenness to peace.

It was never solely about the people I would help; it has always been about the woman I would become.

Becoming Whole Again

It has been quite a journey—wild, unpredictable, beautiful, painful, stretching, and full of growth. I have traveled far, from facing eviction to boarding an airplane, from shedding tears in a McDonald's parking lot to witnessing breathtaking sunsets in Ghana. I've moved from a place of brokenness to one of wholeness.

As of now, I'm not at the "finish line." I’m still here—still healing, still processing, and still becoming the woman God always intended for me to be.

I'm not trying to tie everything into a neat bow. Because life isn't always like that. I don't have all the answers. But I do have peace. I have God. And that's enough. I've learned that sometimes the most significant victory isn't escaping the storm—it's learning how to walk through it with grace.

And maybe, just maybe… Ghana wasn't just a new beginning. It was an invitation. An invitation to heal. To grow. To stop rescuing others. To stop performing. To finally… be free.

Conclusion

Sometimes we can't see a point or purpose behind the troubles we face. Often, it feels like the map to our next destination is blank…

But the Guide, our Lord and savior Jesus Christ, is faithful through and true. If you're like me, in that in-between season—the parking lot, the silence, the not-yet, the-I-don't-know-anymore—hear me when I say, you are not off track, you're not behind,

You're not crazy, and you are not lost (especially when you are in Christ), you are becoming!

Your journey is still being written...