"As to me I know of nothing else but miracles."
– Walt Whitman

Two months ago, I didn’t know where I would be living come February 1. My lease wasn’t being renewed, and the prospect of finding a new home in rentals-challenged Sedona seemed remote, at least in conventional terms.

Would I even be able to stay in town? Or would I be forced out of the area…or out-of-state?

Friends online and off urged me to give up on Sedona and look elsewhere. My logical mind was hard-pressed to disagree. The unregulated proliferation of Airbnbs had stripped the town of much of its housing stock, and neither the local paper nor the usual online listings had more than a handful of offerings…when they had any.

Yet every time I would go within for guidance on whether to consider non-Sedona options, the answer never changed: “Act as though you’re staying.”

As I wrote in my December newsletter and blog post, “[the] same higher wisdom that has guided me so effectively through most of my major life decisions over the years is now insisting that, against all logic and despite surface appearances, there is a new home waiting for me here in Sedona. Not just any home, but a home that requires no serious compromises in terms of look, size or location.”

Dog and dad settling into their new space

It made no sense. But, then, miracles never do. And I had experienced many over the years, including 17 related to housing. So I did my imperfect best to trust that an 18th was around the corner and packed for a local move.

That didn’t stop me from second-guessing myself. Frequently. Why would I find housing here when so many could not? I’d already experienced 17 housing miracles; perhaps I’d used up my quota. Was I deluding myself?

Then I would remind myself that everything I write and teach, be it about writing or living, is about listening to the voice of the heart and trusting the intuitive knowingness that is our highest wisdom. “You either trust or you do not,” the protagonist is told in each of my Legend of Q’ntana visionary fantasy novels. “There is no halfway in between.”

I had no choice: I would have to trust. Unconditionally. There was no halfway in between. And I would have to reassure those fearful parts of me that I have always been taken care of. Even during those three harrowing months between Portland and Sedona, a 2019 journey I chronicle in Pilgrimage: A Fool’s Journey, I was never abandoned. There was always a miracle…then another…then another. I didn’t run out then. Why would I now? And after all, with Christmas only a few weeks away, wasn’t this the season of miracles?

As it turned out, it was.

On December 21, within moments of the Winter Solstice, two potential rentals presented themselves; the only two since I’d begun my search more than a month earlier.

I viewed the first the following day, and although my logical mind urged me to put in an application, all my intuitive impulses urged me to let it go. Still, I kept the blank rental application on my desk until Christmas morning when I finally shredded it.

Four days later, on December 29, I walked around the corner (literally!) to look at the other possible rental.

A bit of backstory on that one…

Although I’d known since mid-November that that condo’s tenant would be leaving at the end of that month, I had done nothing about it. My lease wasn’t up until January 31, and I was reluctant to pay two months’ double rent. But when I learned in mid-December that it was still vacant, I reached out to the woman managing it. Her reply? Not encouraging: She was in no hurry to rent, and might not be renting it out at all, to anyone. When I followed up a week later, she tried to discourage me by listing all the things that were wrong with the condo. But I persisted and she finally agreed to show it to me, though not until after Christmas.

By the time I rang the condo’s doorbell that Wednesday morning, I wasn’t particularly optimistic. Based on everything the manager had told me, I’d half-convinced myself that I’d hate the place.

I loved it. I submitted an application that afternoon, it was accepted the following day, I signed a lease on January 4, and I moved in 24 days later.

I had my 18th miracle.

It was a miracle that would keep on giving…

Because the unit was unoccupied, I got the keys right away and was able to start moving my things into its garage as soon as I signed the lease.
The unit was furnished, and I had my pick of any furniture I might want to use; the rest would go into storage. I opted to keep the living room set up. I had already planned to get rid of my uncomfortable living room furniture. Now, I wouldn’t have to buy replacements. (As you can see from the photo, Kyri has already appropriated the best seat in the house!)
All those problems catalogued by the manager? Most had been resolved by the time I moved in, and the rest are in process. Among the many upgrades that greeted me were new stainless steel appliances, stylish new light fixtures and a new reverse-osmosis water-filtration system.

There were move-out miracles too: Because my old rental was getting new carpets and a paint job, I was spared the expense of getting the carpets cleaned and the hassle of patching up my picture-hook holes. And because of both, I was spared the inconvenience of prospective-tenant viewings.

Perhaps the biggest miracle of all occurred on 2/2/22, when I began work on my 21st book and the fifth story in The Legend of Q’ntana. (Starting work on my 22nd book would have been more numerologically elegant...but oh well!) I know nothing yet about the story or its characters. However, I’m confident that if I get out of the way, they will reveal themselves to me…as they always have. My creative journeys demand no less trust of me than do my life’s journeys!

As I wrote in Pilgrimage, “When I surrender to the voice of my heart, when I agree to follow the path of my soul, anything is possible…even the seemingly impossible…perhaps especially the seemingly impossible.”

And also from Pilgrimage: “On this journey of faith, all I can do is trust in the road my heart calls on me to take and in the miracles that will somehow find and sustain me.”

It isn't always easy for me to remember, but miracles have always found me. If I let them, they always will.

Miracles Have Always Found Me. They Always Will.