"… I spoke to the owner's cousin, and they do not want to invest in any repairs. Maybe this isn't going to work."
I felt like I was kicked in the stomach after that text message. After weeks of trying to get an answer on my housing situation, the property manager let me know that I couldn't live in the home as I had planned.
I felt naked. I wanted to be wrapped in something warm, soft and be near my parents.
I was in disbelief.
…
The deal was simple: I could have free housing serving as a caretaker near a ritzy 18 acre property if I provided 30-40 hours of work a month. I was told it was furnished and they would offer an additional 400 dollars a week for when they needed my space to hold tenants.
After believing that God would provide housing for me, an American missionary serving Georgia, I was encouraged when I received this offer.
I was blessed.
As I drove to Gainesville, I kept telling myself, "I don't need to support raise. I can make it work. I'm an adult."
After arriving in the dead of night, I learned I could stay in the guesthouse. I was dazed as I explored the massive, fully furnished property. With beds that had 186 pillows and furniture that belonged in dollhouses, I believed I made it to “fancy land”. By evening, I sat on a bed that was probably more expensive than my car. Though I was afraid to touch anything I was still thankful.
The following day, I was able to take a tour of the property I would eventually be staying in. I walked around with a few friends and realized the stark contrast when my expectations did not meet reality.
"This house is condemnable," I said to myself.
It had not been inhabited or cleaned in four months… It had a leak/mold near the chimney, more mold growing underneath the bathroom sink, a hornets’ nest inside the dining room window, rotting beams that needed to be replaced and enough broken shingles along the exterior base of the house that could give way to water damage by mid summer.
None of this information was presented to me prior to my 12-hour drive from Miami to Georgia.
I emailed the property manager the next day, and he agreed to explore costs of repairs. A week-and-a-half went by, and nothing was done.
A day later, I learned I was going to be homeless.


I felt a variety of emotions: shock, anger, anxiety, and basically the full spectrum when cooping with sudden loss.
I posted a status update with a link to my World Race blog on Facebook to begin support raising. . . again. Three minutes later, I received another, more encouraging text message from a co-worker.
"Welp… you can move in here! :)"



With free housing and living on a budget, I knew I would be ok. But that was before expectations became as putrid as the home that I almost lived in.
…
Two months later things have stabilized since the housing debacle.


I share a three-bedroom apartment with two co-workers. I buy groceries at Walmart. I sleep on an inflatable mattress. I carpool. 

The terms "Great Value" and "free" are now commonplace in my vernacular and things are tight, but manageable.
I have a salary, but I have to raise support for half of it.
I have bills, but I have faith.
Despite my expectations being unmet I’m finding something better then what I wanted. God has provided a solid community and another opportunity to depend on Him and develop. 


I'm 28 years old and I'm feeling like an adult for the first time in my life.
Thank you for helping me through this transition.
Thank you for your prayers.
Thanks for your support.
