Looking out my kitchen window, I see some of the rocks laid around our pond. It started here. Whether I was in the kitchen looking at the pond, or whether I was actually down at the pond, I can’t remember. I just know there was something about the pond that caused me to ask this question, how did I get here? We all ask that question at some point in life. For some, it’s the catalyst that determines what we believe about who we are and whether we were created by someone or simply appeared. It’s one of the great questions of life, and it was no different for me, even after I thought I had it all figured out.

We had been living in the Fasig farmhouse for about two years. Life had proven to be challenging outside of the farm, so the pond became my refuge. I felt tormented by things outside my control. So, all that I could control was where my feet took me, what my hands did, and where my mind might wander when I felt so helpless, angry, and confused. My hands were probably in their thoughtful place, near my mouth. My feet took me to walk around the pond. My mind began to wander back to my youth.

I was raised in a lake town. As I grew up and moved away, bodies of water seemed to be the kinds of places I turned to when I needed an escape to sort out my thoughts. The idea that now there was a body of water in my very own backyard astounded me. It was something I had always wanted. When I really thought about it, in my deepest of longings, even from my childhood, I wanted a creek to walk in, a mote around my castle, or an island of refuge I could escape to. It was all there, tightly tethered to the reality I was living.

So, the question came at me with a new kind of weight. How did I get here? I remember sitting at the edge of a dock on Clear Lake in Niles, Michigan. I was volunteering at a family camp some summer weeks in high school. In the early mornings, I liked to be the first down to the dock. The dock was not far from the main lodge, where breakfast was served each morning. There were a variety of places around the lodge and near the dock where other volunteers would get up early to read or pray before the day began. The dock was the most envied spot, in my opinion, and as they say, the early bird gets the worm.

I remember working through some deep thoughts that summer, coming of age questions, what kind of man would I marry, and wrestling with the sovereignty of God kind of stuff. A scene from one of my favorite movies at the time (though I can’t, in good conscience, recommend it now), came to mind. In the movie, there’s a woman painting the beautiful landscape in her backyard, which happens to overlook a large pond or a lake (one very much like the one I was sitting at, small enough to see from edge to edge, but a beautiful haven nonetheless). I began to daydream and thought, yes, that’s what I want. I don’t know that I want to marry rich and simply get what I want, but since I am a daughter of the King of Kings, then I guess I already am very rich and could simply ask my Father. So, I did. I was feeling very confident about who I was and who I belonged to, so I asked the Lord that if it would please Him, would He work it out so that I might have my own lake in my backyard one day? And that was that. I forgot all about it until this time I’m writing about, when I began asking, how did I get here?

Whether I’m sixteen and coming of age, or thirty-three and still not feeling very grown up, most questions that I ask do end up getting answered, but they often come back around and peel back more layers, answering the same question further. It’s been three years now of me asking, how did I get here? And I’ll tell you what I’ve figured out so far.

The story of me coming to and living in the 12 Stones Farmhouse has little to do with me and everything to do with God. If it weren’t for this almighty being, none of this would have ever happened. If it had not been for an eternal God who had loved me from before time began, I never would have married my husband, and I never would have ended up here. If it had not been for His intervention in my life three years ago, five years ago, fifteen years ago, and all the time before that, I wouldn’t have believed it was worth writing to you today.

I hope you’ll keep walking with me. Next time, I’ll tell you about another dream that really did change everything.

• Instagram