That was the common question asked of members of my community when we moved into our homes over a decade ago. We were in a new section, so all of us moved in around the same time, and all of us were ‘come-yahs’. Hardly a native South Carolinian among us. The answers varied. Some really knew the area and others just came on a whim. Some wanted golf, or the beach, or no snow, or lower taxes.

As a family, we had vacationed down here since the mid-90s. The peace of sunrise walks on the beach and the beauty of the ever-changing marshes definitely beckoned to me. To get up and leave an established home of almost 27 years, a house with two attics and two basements, and a support community…well, that took a lot more impetus and effort than going on a 2 or 3 week vacation. In fact, it took courage.

The strains of living with my husband’s Alzheimers, a huge house and yard, debilitating taxes and medical expenses, had worn me down to empty. The darkness of that world had closed in on me, and, though I put up a brave front, I was completely spent. Sad, that it is at those times of absolute empty that we turn to God for His answer. We stop our own struggling and plans — which barely work at best — and fall completely into His arms.

On that vacation 13 years ago, my son and future daughter-in-law visited and encouraged me to move. I wearily listened. I was encouraged to get some books and magazines and met someone in the bookstore who took me to a model home that was light and airy. To call me a fiscal conservative would be an understatement.  Yet, I purchased a lot and that model on the spot. No hesitation … until the next morning. As I walked the beach that morning, at sunrise, my thoughts leaned to backing out of the contract. Alzheimers wasn’t going away. My family was gone. And we would be leaving our church family, neighbors and support. Who would take care of me? Of us?

A voice in my head said to turn around. As I did, I saw, taking up a quarter of the sky, a hand. It was years later that I noticed that the hand was also holding a dove. Like Abraham, I left what was known, and travelled to a new home far away, knowing that the God of my ancestors was with me.

As we enter Lent, and I ponder Christ’s selfless journey to the Cross, my thoughts have turned to the walk that took me to Christ and to those moments 41 years ago that led me to accept Him as my Savior. Like the woman in the bookstore, there had been a stewardess on a plane. Like the walk on the beach, there was the walk to Notre Dame to receive Communion. Not what brought me to the Lowcountry, but rather, what brought me to Christ. God has never let go, and always taken me in the right direction, to the right place. I just need to listen and follow.

So, what brought you to the cross?

Oh victory in Jesus, my Savior forever
He sought me and bought me with His redeeming blood
He loved me ‘ere I knew Him and all my love is due Him