The Whispers I Followed Home

For 147 days this summer (and some spring and one-and-a-half days of fall), I wandered. That’s over half the length of my #RunningTo trip from five years ago, officially my second longest stretch of homelessness.

I didn’t plan it this way. I thought I’d have settled somewhere two months ago, at least.

But then, well, the last two months happened. Including a bizarre chain of events that almost had me moving hundreds of miles away.

Like. For real. Remind me to tell you that story some time. It’s a doozy.

It was a hard 147 days. A journey full of joy and adventure, yes. But also my grandfather’s death. Also fruitless apartment-hunting. Also second-guessing everything.

But all in all, I’m glad it happened. All of it. It’s done.

I live somewhere now.

And that somewhere is right back where I started — not necessarily the journey that began 147 days ago, but a larger one from three-and-a-half years ago.

In February of 2016, I first moved to Asheville, North Carolina. I moved here for a job working at a therapeutic boarding school for teen boys. I didn’t know anybody in town and had to hit the ground running to build community. It took time. Some efforts were more successful than others.

For the next two-plus years, I built something. Something good.

And then it toppled.

147 days ago, it was tempting to leave this place for the mere sake of leaving. To call Asheville a good try and simply move on with my life — even move 3,000 miles away, if necessary.

But there’s something about this town. The mountains. The art. The coffee places that feel more like extended living rooms.

Gosh, the sense of home that swirls about these hills. I can’t get enough of it. Driving around for Lyft and Uber these last couple years has introduced me to this city in ways I’ve never known another. I practically know it like the back of my foot. (I don’t like clichés, so I ruin them instead.)

And while I’ve struggled to find relational footing here at times, while I do enjoy leaving, seeing other lands, fraternizing with other folks, I keep coming back to this city as the one for me — at least for this season, however long the season lasts.

In truth, it might just last one more year. Or two. I’d like it to be at least two.

Ultimately, I never want to be locked into any place such that another place is never on the table.

I had a Juke-load of dreams that I took with me to Asheville in 2016. And I still have dreams for Asheville in 2019.

Maybe those dreams will come true here.

Or maybe those dreams will indeed beckon me somewhere else.

Before I left the Blue Ridge for this road trip in May, I told God: I’m available. Seriously. If You want me somewhere else, You tell me. And I’m there.

I spent the entire summer hearing nothing in response.

And then.

He kinda did whisper another city to me. In a most distinct way beyond “oh yeah, cool place, great people.”

So, I visited. And I gulped back some pretty big gulps in the aftermath.

Was I serious? Did I mean what I said to God back in April? Wasn’t this where the so-called rubber meets the literal road? Stepping out where 99% of humanity — even 99% of Toms — dare not go?

Or could the rubber also meet the road leading me right back to an old familiar city of hope and heartbreak?

Time will tell if I made the right choice, if I heard (and followed) the right voice. I think so. I no longer see “God’s will for my life” through such binary lenses of “right” and “so wrong,” at least as far as my mailing address goes.

After 147 days, I followed the whispers back to Asheville, and I’m thrilled not to be wandering any longer. I found an apartment in town, and a phenomenal one at that.

I hesitate with clichés — especially Christian clichés — but y’all: this was a God-thing.

I’m living in a phenomenal apartment in a phenomenal neighborhood with a phenomenal landlord, and I follow a phenomenal God of provision.

When people ask how I found this place, I will make no mistake about it: God provided this place for me. Breathed and wrote it for me out of nothing. As He created the universe and my very being.

It’s a beautiful place, already my favorite I’ve ever lived, and I can’t wait to show more on this blog, my YouTube channel, Instagram, and other online outlets.

Ugh, my new home has made these 147 days worth the wait.

I’m excited for the next chapter. I’m stoked to return to old rhythms — who’s excited to hear me talk about CrossFit on the weekly again?! — and I’m anticipatory for what else God has for me in these pages.

The Asheville story isn’t finished yet.

And I’ve never been more eager to turn the page.

As a P.S.: I assembled a playlist from all my travels this summer, from Asheville to St. Louis to Texas to Colorado to Philadelphia to Maine to Georgia to Chattanooga to Kansas City to Montana to Indiana to Minnesota and back again. I hope you enjoy it!