Coffee on the deck, a lake view stretching past the tree line, hills turning gold in the evening light. That was our old life in Northern California, and honestly, it was good. We’re not telling this story because we were running from something bad. We’re telling it because sometimes the life that looks perfect on paper still leaves you feeling like something is missing.
We had a beautiful home with a lake view and rolling hills behind it, lots of trees and open space, yet only five minutes from every grocery store, mechanic, and shop we could need. We ran our own business, so our schedule was ours. We drove nice cars, we were close to family, and we had lived in that house together for eight years while raising our daughter. By every measure, it was the life of our dreams. And yet.
Why We Walked Away From a Comfortable Life
We wanted our life to mean something beyond comfort. We had seen the crisis playing out across Europe, where English-speaking immigrants from the African continent were literally risking their lives just to reach the continent for a better quality of life.
We felt called to help, to coach people in Christian principles and offer them something that could genuinely change their circumstances. It touched us deeply, this idea that we could make even a small impact on people who needed it most.
We didn’t rush into it. We talked about it for months, we prayed about it, we weighed the cost of walking away from a home, a business, and a lifetime of belongings. What convinced us in the end wasn’t a spreadsheet. It was noticing which doors were closing around us while new ones kept opening, almost like the decision was being made for us if we were just willing to pay attention.
Selling Everything in Record Time
Once we decided to act, we put the house on the market. We found a buyer almost immediately, and not just any buyer.
She loved the house so much she wanted the furniture, the beds, the linens, everything included. For us, that was perfect. We were starting over completely, and shipping a houseful of belongings across the world made no sense.
We ended up selling for more than our asking price. There was a delay before she could officially close, so we had to decide whether to take a calculated risk on her. We did, and it worked out so well that I flew back four months later just to sign the final paperwork.
The Day We Actually Left
By July 25th, 2019, we were headed to the airport with seven oversized pieces of luggage, which turned out to be nearly everything we owned in the world.
Jeia is not a crier. I rarely see her cry about anything. But when we handed over the keys and pulled away from that house for the last time, she broke down completely.
We had raised our daughter there, taken vacations from there, had our morning coffee on that deck for eight years. As we drove off, the new owner was literally circling the block every ten minutes, too excited to wait to move in. We were excited to go, but the emotional weight of everything culminating at once was heavy. If there was ever a moment I doubted the decision, it was that one.
The Lesson We Took From Letting Go
Looking back, I think if we had calculated every single detail and refused to trust the process, we might never have pulled the trigger at all.
You do want to be strategic, and you do want to count the cost. But at some point overthinking becomes its own trap, and it can talk you out of a beautiful future before it even has a chance to start.
That flight from California toward a new life in Italy was really just the beginning of the adventure. The challenges that met us almost as soon as we landed are a story for another day, but they were real, and they tested us in ways we didn’t expect.
Wrapping Up Our Leap Into a New Life in Italy
Selling our home, our business, and nearly everything we owned to move across the world wasn’t a decision we made lightly. It came out of months of thought, prayer, and a genuine desire to build a life around something bigger than comfort.
What surprised us most was how quickly the pieces fell into place once we finally committed, from the buyer who wanted our entire life down to the linens, to the sale price that exceeded what we asked for.
The hardest part wasn’t the logistics. It was the grief of leaving behind eight years of memories in a house that had truly been home.
If you’re sitting on the fence about a big life change of your own, our advice is simple. Pay attention to which doors are closing around you and which ones are opening, because sometimes that’s the clearest answer you’re going to get.
