There are seasons in life when everything feels uncertain—when decisions carry weight and the future feels like a question mark. And then there are seasons when, somehow, everything begins to fall into place in a way that feels too intentional to be coincidence.
Since making the decision last August to move to Colorado for Skyler—to give him more opportunity, more community, more of a fulfilled adulthood—we’ve found ourselves in that second kind of season. Not because everything has been perfect or effortless, but because every step has felt guided. Doors have opened quickly. The right people have shown up at the right time. Resources we didn’t even know existed have made their way to us. It’s the kind of unfolding that reminds you: this isn’t random.
It’s faith in motion.
There’s something powerful about recognizing when you’re being led instead of forcing your own way forward. When things align with a sense of ease—not the absence of effort, but the presence of purpose—you start to trust that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
Last weekend was one of those moments that made that truth feel undeniable.
We decided to attend Mass, something we hadn’t yet done since moving here. As we sat down, a couple walked in behind us with their 42-year-old adult son in a wheelchair. He was vocal, expressive—clearly excited to be there. As they passed, his mother gently touched Skyler’s arm and apologized for the noise. We smiled, reassured her that Skyler would soon be clapping loudly too, and within moments we were in conversation—sharing stories, experiences, and the quiet understanding that comes from walking a similar path.
What followed felt anything but coincidental. She shared resources we hadn’t yet discovered, offered her contact information, and extended a sense of community that can’t be manufactured—it can only be found… or given.
And then, just days later, it happened again.
At a meet & greet with my friends from Drawings by Trent (who I hadn’t met in person until now!) I was introduced to the current Mrs. Colorado, Adriana Morrison whose mission so closely mirrors our own that it felt almost surreal. A mother of three children with autism, she is using her platform to advocate for better support, funding, and awareness for autistic adults. We live just miles apart. And now, we’re already talking about how we can work together.
These aren’t just coincidences. They’re confirmations.
They are reminders that when you step forward in faith—even when it’s uncomfortable, even when the path isn’t fully clear—you’re not walking alone. There is a greater plan at work, one that we don’t always see in the moment but can feel when we pause long enough to notice the patterns.
Faith doesn’t mean having all the answers. It means trusting the timing. It means believing that what’s meant for you will find you—and that sometimes, the most meaningful connections come when you least expect them but need them the most.
I’m learning to lean into that trust more and more. To release the need to control every outcome. To recognize that what feels like chance is often something far more intentional.
And most of all, to stay open—to the people, the opportunities, and the quiet moments that remind me that we are exactly where we’re supposed to be.
Right here. Right now. On His timeline.
