News & Posts

Transitions in life take courage to navigate effectively. Our guest blogger Zoe Houston helps sort through the process of home purchases, downsizing, packing, and more. Please visit [email protected] for more inspiration. You don’t want to run into the same situations as Dan and Julie encountered in our novel Paper Alley.

You never think it’s going to happen until it does. One moment, the house your parents raised you in is just there—sitting stubbornly on the corner of Maple and Third, with its faded porch swing and the creaky stair that always told on you. The next moment, it’s listed online with a slideshow of rooms that look too bright, too exposed, like someone took a flashlight to your memories. There’s a strange kind of grief that comes with selling the family home, and even stranger, it doesn’t always feel like grief at first.

Let Yourself Mourn What Isn’t a Death

There’s an odd cultural pressure to treat change like an opportunity right out of the gate. But you can’t shortcut grief, even when the loss is more metaphorical than physical. It’s okay—normal, actually—to feel a real kind of sadness over something like a home being sold. That front door your dad painted twice, the corner where your mom sat with her coffee every morning, the echo of arguments and laughter and sleepover secrets—they’re imprinted into your bones in a way no one else fully understands. In Ecclesiastes 3:1, it says, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” That includes a time to cry over what seems silly to others. Let it be.

Talk About the Shift Before It Happens

One of the hardest parts about family transitions is the silence that swells up around them. Too often, you don’t talk until things are already in motion—boxes packed, garage emptied, keys handed over to a stranger. Start the conversation before anyone's ready to have it. Ask your parents what this move really means to them, what they’re hoping for in this next chapter, and what you can do to help them feel supported rather than questioned. And speak up about your own feelings, too—not to guilt them, but to stay connected. Families drift more in silence than in distance.

Rest for Better Decision Making

Stress has a way of fogging up even the clearest decisions, especially when emotions are running high and you're being asked to choose what stays, what goes, and what really matters. If you're feeling the pressure of a hundred tiny choices—should we keep the dining room table, who gets the photo albums, when do we list the house—pause before you push forward. Something as simple as taking a deep breath can shift you out of reactive mode and into a calmer space where your priorities have room to breathe.

Make Peace With Uneven Grieving

Here’s something no one tells you: not everyone is going to feel the same weight. Your sister might be relieved, your brother might be indifferent, and your parents might be downright excited about downsizing and ditching yard work. That doesn’t make your sadness any less valid, but it does mean you’ll have to carry it without the expectation of being joined. Still, the grief is yours to hold and understand. In Romans 12:15, there’s wisdom in the reminder to “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” You might be doing both at once—and that’s perfectly human.

Find the Stories in the Dust

Before the house is sold, and maybe even after it’s gone, take the time to walk through it like a museum of your own making. Snap photos, write down little moments attached to rooms, laugh about the ridiculous wallpaper choices, the mystery stain in the guest room, the dent in the garage door no one ever fixed. These stories are the legacy—not the physical walls. You don’t need a deed to hold onto meaning. Share these memories with your family, or keep them for yourself in a journal that smells like old paper and nostalgia.

Redefine the Meaning of “Home”

What does it mean when the house is gone but the family still exists? You have to build a new map—one where home becomes people and presence, not place. Maybe now it’s your apartment that hosts the holidays, or your brother’s backyard where your mom brings her famous sweet potatoes. The traditions have to shift, but they don’t have to vanish. Remember John 14:2, where Jesus says, “My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?” There’s something comforting about the idea that home isn’t just here.

There’s a moment, usually later than you expect, when it all sinks in. You might drive by the old place and see a new car in the driveway. You might dream of it and wake up realizing there’s no “back home” to return to anymore. That’s when you know you’ve crossed into a new kind of adulthood—one where you hold the memories, but not the walls. Take heart: homes may sell, but what they held inside you isn’t going anywhere.
 

Discover stories of courage and grace with Brave Knight Writers, where spiritual warfare meets inspiring narratives. Visit now to explore their latest releases and receive a free e-book!