Chicago to Sweet Home Alabama:
A Story of Change, Love, and God's Hand in the Details

I didn't move to Alabama for the weather (though trading lake-effect snow for sunny skies wasn't a bad deal). And I didn't move because I was looking for an adventure (though I definitely found one).

I moved out of love—for my dad. I missed him more than I could explain. I didn't just want visits and phone calls. I wanted everyday life. So, with fear and gumption in my gut, I said yes to Alabama.

My parents had divorced years earlier, and while I had been living with my mom, there came a point—the summer between freshman and sophomore year —when my heart knew it was time to join my dad in Alabama. It wasn't a decision made lightly. I had deep roots in Illinois: family, friends, and routines that included my favorite pizza place (you don't just walk away from that crust!), Portillios (IFKYK) and the best corn grown anywhere! But more than anything, I had a deep desire to know my dad better and be part of his everyday world.

So I packed up my teenage life and left behind the only place I'd ever known. And let me tell you: moving as a sophomore in high school is no joke. And wow, what a move it was.

I traded the L train for country roads. My boots were not made for red clay. I'm a city kid, raised on German food and Lake Michigan breezes. I walked into a new high school with the full knowledge that I sounded different, dressed a little off, and had absolutely zero experience with saying "yes, ma'am" to anyone. And while I tried to blend in, being almost six feet tall meant I stuck out like a deep-dish pizza at a barbecue.

New school. New accent. New social rules I hadn't studied for. People said things like "bless your heart" (which, I learned, doesn't always mean what you think), and the tea here was so sweet it nearly qualified as syrup. I felt like a walking "Which one of these is not like the other?" puzzle.

The transition wasn't easy. There were nights I questioned everything. I missed my friends. I missed my mom. I missed knowing where I fit. And yet—I wouldn't undo it for the world.

Even in the middle of all the awkwardness, there was grace. What started as a hard season became a defining one.

It taught me how to adjust.

It stretched me and grew me.

It taught me how to see people past the surface.

It softened the sharp edges and taught me to look for God in unfamiliar places.

It taught me that life isn't about staying comfortable—it's about showing up for the people God has placed in your life, even when it means starting over.

I learned that love sometimes means stepping into the unknown, that honoring your heart doesn't always come with a perfect plan, and that God is faithful—even when you feel like the new kid who doesn't know where the cafeteria is.

Yes, it was hard. Yes, I missed my family, friends, and my old routines. But that move, made from love, started shaping the woman I would become.

That move didn't just change my zip code—it changed me. It gave me a closer relationship with my dad, memories I'll always cherish, and the deep awareness that life's best decisions don't always come easy—but they come with purpose.

Change is hard. But it's also holy.

Sometimes, God calls us into the uncomfortable, not to punish us but to prepare us, to place us, to write a part of our story that couldn't be written any other way.

Looking back now, I see God's fingerprints all over that season. What felt like a big disruption was actually a divine redirection. He wasn't just bringing me closer to my dad—He was teaching me how to love deeply, live faithfully, and later, how to walk beside others as they face transitions of their own.

From one place to another.

From what's known to what's next.

And often, from fear to faith.

I know what it's like to carry both excitement and sadness in the same suitcase. I know the courage it takes to leave familiar places behind. And I know how powerful it is when we trust that God is working in the move—even when it's hard.

And for that, I'm grateful—even if I still think Chicago pizza is superior.

Because now, as a real estate agent, I help people do exactly that: transition.

So if you're walking through a season of change, know this: You're not alone. It's okay to miss what was and still embrace what's coming. And who knows? Your next step might just be part of something beautiful you never saw coming.

After all, God doesn't waste anything—not even an awkward transfer, where love intersected life and change happened.🙃

Deb Long  |  REALTOR® | 205-447-3476