From Biohazard to Home: The Thanksgiving Miracle

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Okay, I know that what happened the week of Thanksgiving isn’t literally a miracle. As I describe in The Rhythm of Everything, a miracle is something that defies the laws of science. But our culture—including me—often uses the word loosely to describe a blessing or an act of Providence that is so unexpected, so perfectly timed, that it feels miraculous even if we can explain how it physically happened. This year, the week of Thanksgiving gave me much to be grateful for—it was a cup overflowing.

Settling down after almost ten years of living out of two backpacks officially began on November 13th. That first week was nothing but clean, sleep, repeat. Meals were bottles of Ensure, yogurt, or a sandwich—until I remembered I didn’t even own a can opener. Trin was in California with his mom. They planned eventually arrived in Arizona by December 4th. The plans changed so many times!

By the evening of November 23rd, the living room was finally clean enough that I could imagine furniture inside it… but imagining was as far as I’d gotten. 

What do we buy? Where do we look? How do I get it here?

Those questions floated around with no answers. Part of me wanted to jump online and start buying everything, but something inside whispered, “Wait. Just wait.”

The next morning—November 24th—everything changed.

An IKEA run turned into a Couch Run

When my friend Hannah visited the week before, she offered to take me to IKEA on the 24th. I said yes immediately—I love spending time with her, and IKEA is always an adventure.

But then, a woman from my small group at church texted. Her neighbor was redecorating their living room and wondered if I wanted their old couch.

Yes, please.

I messaged Hannah: “Can we turn IKEA day into a couch run?”
“Why not both?” she responded. 

Why not, coconut… a phrase my mother-in-law, now living with us, constantly says.

So at 7:30 AM, Hannah pulled up, and we drove off to get her mom’s truck and then proceeded to a gated community in the heart of Scottsdale where the promised couch awaited.

Frank and Trudy welcomed us with warm smiles and led us into their garage. I expected a couch.

I did not expect:

• A couch
• Two matching chairs
• A coffee table
• Two end tables
• A console table
• And a matching area rug
  

All free and exactly the right size and color for our living room.

Before I could process that abundance, Trudy said, “Come with me—see if you want this too.” She led me into their bedroom where another surprise awaited: they were replacing their bedroom suite and wanted to know if I’d like their current set—two bedside tables, an armoire, and a desk. These pieces would need to wait a few weeks. Even so, I almost cried. I wanted to get the place set up so my mother-in-law, who has dementia, could feel comfortable and safe upon arrival, but this was more than I could have expected.

Hannah and I loaded the truck. She expertly tied everything down, and we returned to my place to unload. We placed the couch base and coffee table in the carport and hauled everything else upstairs (our living space is on the second floor), then headed back for round two.

On the way back, we stopped to return the truck, thinking the remaining chair and end tables would fit in Hannah’s SUV. But her mom had other plans.

She began filling the truck with:

• Lamps
• Kitchen supplies
• Shower curtains
• Towels
• Bath mats
• Blankets
• Pillows
• A really cool chair from the set of Mad Men
• And a table that worked perfectly as a TV stand

So we kept the truck, returned to Frank and Trudy’s, and somehow squeezed in the remaining chair and end tables.

Later that afternoon, my brother-in-law stopped by on his way home from work to help carry up the couch and coffee table (which, I swear, weighed a ton).

It felt like watching a home materialize out of thin air.

Piece by piece, the house transformed. I wiped down surfaces, carried furniture upstairs, positioned lamps, and watched the space shift from a biohazard the week before to a home.

Making it feel like home

Some of the upholstery had a few spots, so I ordered a little Bissell Green Machine. It arrived the next morning—Amazon next-day delivery still feels like magic to me after so many years of nomadic life. Cleaning the furniture took hours, but I was grateful for the chance to make everything fresh again.

Sometime during that week, the mattress we ordered for my mother-in-law arrived. A few days later, the bed frame showed up too, right at my front door—no hauling upstairs required. Momma Lulu’s room is set up now, with a bed, bedside table, and a chair from Mad Men–though it still needs a few touches to feel like home. Since Lowe’s is only a mile away, I bought a plant for beside her bed and an orchid for her nightstand.

Sometime during that week, the mattress we ordered for my mother-in-law arrived. A few days later, the bed frame showed up too, delivered right to my front door—no hauling upstairs required. Momma Lulu’s room is set up now, with a bed, a bedside table, and a Mad Men chair–the bedspread and pillows even match it—Thank you, Hannah’s mom! For the finishing touches, I purchased a large plant to place beside the bed and an orchid for her nightstand.

The Things We Saved a Decade Ago

Back in 2016, when we sold everything to embark on world travel, we planned to keep only what fit in our backpacks.
But my mom called and said she had space in the basement if we wanted to store a few things.

So, ‌of the things we kept, there were two boxes with just enough kitchen basics to restart a home someday.
Trin kept all six of our bicycles: road bikes, mountain bikes, and cross trainers. Yes, we used every single one.

We had planned to retrieve those boxes as soon as we returned to the States, but when Momma Lulu needed to move in sooner, we had to postpone our trip east.

A Forgotten Closet Treasure

On Wednesday of Thanksgiving week, I went to my brother-in-law’s place to collect a few things we’d left during our visits to the States between continents.

We had placed our items on the top shelf of their spare room closet. When I went up to retrieve them, I was shocked by how full the shelf was.

“I don’t remember leaving this much,” I said.
My sister-in-law smiled and reminded me we had brought items from Pennsylvania in 2021. I had completely forgotten.

I brought the boxes home and opened them like it was Christmas.

Inside one was a kitchen box I’d packed in 2016. I now have plates, mugs, glasses—and yes—a can opener. Two, in fact.

Since I bought one earlier for my tuna cans, I now have three can openers, but not a single mixing bowl or pot or pan. I found that hilarious. This week I offered to bake an eggless cake for a women’s group gathering… and then realized I didn’t own a cake pan. I ordered one—then realized I’d need a mixing bowl too.

It’s funny how many little things go into simply living in a home. I love the process of figuring it out—trying to keep only what we truly need, not accumulating too much (like three can openers), yet still building a comfortable space. Keeping that balance will be an adventure in itself.

Thanksgiving

I drove to my sister’s house for Thanksgiving. The meal was spectacular, and it was great to spend time with family, and to take a much-needed pause.

On Friday, still at my sister’s, I spent hours updating my address on everything since I still didn’t have internet at home. I also washed all the blankets and shower curtains gifted earlier in the week.

A New Kind of Adventure

During this second week in our home, while still cleaning and setting things up, my niece spent a few hours at the new house while her mom taught a yoga class. She wasn’t feeling well and had to miss school, so she curled up while I read to her and we talked. 

Thankfully, the furniture had arrived the day before, and she had a place to snuggle up.

These are the kinds of moments I’ve missed during our years of wandering.
I’m grateful for the chance to be present now.

Humbled to Tears

The Sunday after all these miraculous gifts, my pastor asked how I was doing.
I opened my mouth to answer and immediately choked up.

“It’s all good,” I said quickly, wiping my eyes.

But what I meant was:

• I have been overwhelmed by generosity.
• Overwhelmed by grace.
• Overwhelmed by how fast the filth was disappearing and I had begun to enjoy being in the space.

Every piece of furniture, every lamp, every kitchen gadget, every unexpected provision was a reminder that we are not building this new chapter alone.

When Trin and Momma Lulu arrive (which they did a week later), I wanted them to feel welcome, comfortable, and safe.

Because this new home isn’t just walls and floors. It is a place to love and be loved, a place to care for Momma Lulu and welcome friends.

Unfortunately, the HOA won’t let us paint our front door blue. Maybe we should just get a beige car with a blue door—like the one that kicked off this entire website!