We’ve been in Tennessee just over a month now. It’s gone by fast, but those first few days felt slow in a way I wasn’t expecting.
The night we arrived, I remember walking through the house after the kids were asleep and just... listening. There were no sirens, no cars driving by, no people walking past the windows. Our closest neighbor is far enough away that I can’t hear or see them unless I’m looking for it. And for the first time in my life, it was completely quiet. I didn’t know if I liked it.
That first week, I caught myself wondering if we had made a huge mistake. I missed the background noise, the constant hum of a city, even the convenience of knowing exactly where to go for takeout or a quick grocery run. I started to doubt if I was actually cut out for “country life.”
But over the past few weeks, that silence has started to feel a lot like peace.
Now, I wake up to birds instead of traffic. I’ve been sitting on the porch in the evenings, watching the sun go down with a cup of tea or just taking a breath while the kids play in the yard. The other day, Poppy looked at me and said, “I love our new house.” And in that moment, I thought, me too.


The kids are adjusting really well. Poppy especially loves being able to run outside whenever she wants. The first week we were here, she kept standing at the back door asking, “Are you sure I can go out by myself?” In LA, I would never let her play outside alone—our house was right next to a busy street where cars would fly around the corner. So it took her a minute to trust it. Now she finishes breakfast, looks at me, and says, “I’m going outside,” like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
It’s not always easy. The grocery runs take more planning, we’ve had to adjust to not having five coffee shops within five minutes, and there are plenty of days I miss my old routines. But I’m also realizing how much mental space I’ve recovered from removing that constant buzz of city life. It’s been good for my kids—and good for me.
I’ve been with the kids every day in a different way than I was before. Not just logistically, but mentally present. There’s a slower pace here that’s helping me shift out of survival mode and into something more sustainable.
We’ve also started settling into a local church. There are a lot of young families, and people are just... open about their faith. It’s not performative—it’s just part of the culture here. I’ve seen people reading their Bibles at the local coffee shop, and heard worship music playing quietly in the background at my dentist appointment. I didn’t realize how much I’d appreciate those small moments until I experienced them.
I wouldn’t say I’m closer to God because I moved. But I do feel more aware of Him here—of His presence in the quiet mornings, the slower pace, and even in the moments of doubt. That awareness has brought a kind of peace I didn’t expect.
Even physically, I can tell it’s making a difference. My Oura Ring has shown a big jump in my restorative time over the past few weeks. I’ve been sleeping more deeply and waking up without that edge of stress I didn’t even realize I was carrying. It’s a reminder that our environment really does affect how we feel.
Our oldest daughter, Jadyn, is still in California. She visits often—she’s actually coming again this weekend—and we’re hopeful she might want to spend more time here this summer. But she’s also 18, and she’s building her own life. We want her to choose what’s best for her, not what she thinks would make us happy. It’s one of those things I’ve had to accept may not look the way I hoped—and that’s okay. Either way, I’m at peace with it, and I’m grateful we’re still seeing her often.
Not long after we arrived, we also had to say goodbye to our dog of ten years, Eloise. It was really unexpected. We knew she was getting older and had been slowly going blind, but one night she didn’t eat her dinner—something completely unlike her. Within days she started losing weight rapidly. We took her to the vet, and they told us it was likely a form of lymphoma that’s incredibly difficult to detect unless you're proactively screening for it. They said it had probably been forming for over a year.
Eloise was the gentlest, most loyal dog. Even as she was fading, she was sweet and calm. She’d been a huge part of our family for so long—especially for Jadyn. The two of them were inseparable growing up. So with everything changing and this move already feeling like such a big transition, losing her so quickly was hard in a different kind of way. I’m just really grateful we were with her in those final days, and that she had a full life and was deeply loved. I’m sure Mabel misses her too.
One thing we’re really looking forward to is Anthony’s parents moving here in the next couple of months. They lived in Southern California until he was 18, then moved to Texas. Once we told them we were making the move to Tennessee, they said they wanted to move too. Knowing they’ll be just a drive away instead of a flight feels like such a gift—especially in this season where we’re craving more family connection and building stronger roots.
This past week, we had our first tornado warning in the middle of the night. We woke the kids up at 1am and brought them down to the basement. I won’t lie—it was a little nerve-wracking. But knowing our house was built in the late 1800s and has stood the test of time gave me more confidence than I expected. We opened all the fireplace flues to help relieve pressure (one of those small things we’re learning), and I was thankful for how solid and protected the basement felt.
The next morning, everything was calm—and the grass looked greener than ever. The flowers have started blooming, and I’ve already ordered my vegetable and flower starter pack from a local farm (I pick it up mid-April). In the meantime, I’m working on getting our raised beds built. There’s a lot to learn, but being outside, figuring it out, with the kids running around as I do it—that’s the part I’ve looked forward to the most.


So—one month in. We’ve had friends over for weekend dinners, I’m baking all kinds of sourdough everything, and the farmers market is already part of our weekly routine. We’ve visited nearby farms, and we take walks to see the horses at the end of our road. These are the small, ordinary moments that feel like exactly what we hoped for—and they’re slowly starting to feel like home.
One night after dinner, I was standing at the sink doing dishes and realized I hadn’t picked up my phone in hours. Not because I was trying to unplug or be better about screen time—but because I just didn’t feel the urge to check anything. I was where I wanted to be. And that hit me in the best kind of way.
Lately, I’ve been scrolling social media less and focusing more on what I can create instead. That’s actually part of what inspired this Substack. I’ve been listening to more podcasts while I clean or organize—one I’ve really loved is For the Gospel by Costi Hinn. I also just started reading his book Walking in God’s Will, and it’s been really encouraging so far. I love when a good book comes through a podcast interview—it always feels more personal when it connects to a conversation I’ve already been drawn into.
If you’re reading something good or have a favorite podcast you’ve been into lately, feel free to share—I’d love to hear what’s been speaking to you in this season too. And if you're also in the middle of a big transition, just know you're not alone. It's okay if it takes time to feel settled. I'm right there with you.
Thanks for being here,
xx Brittany
I remember meeting you at Simply Stylist in LA, fresh out of college, full of dreams, and hoping to carve out a space in the fashion world. At the time, I didn’t realize how much fear and striving clouded my view of what a meaningful life really was. I was chasing significance in all the places the world told me to look.
Since then, life has unfolded in the most unexpected and beautiful ways. I became a wife, a mother of two, and somewhere in the quiet moments of motherhood and the stretching of my spirit, I started to see things differently. It was in the mundane and the messy that God began to remake me. My priorities shifted, my faith deepened, and I started to crave a life that felt more rooted, unhurried, intentional, present.
So when you shared this post and the title In the Making—it truly felt like a full-circle moment. For awhile now, I’ve kept a journal titled “Becoming” where I poured out the things I was learning in the dark, hoping one day it would become something that might speak life into others.
I’ve been following your podcast and now your Substack, and this slower, intentional life you’re embracing resonates so deeply. Substack already feels like a sacred space, free from performance, rich with presence. A place to be fully seen without the noise.
Thank you for sharing your heart so honestly and for being an inspiration to those of us trying to live slower, love deeper, and walk more closely with God🤍
I believe you're where God needs you to be. He will always know what's best for us even when it feels like "What on earth am I doing?" As you can see, you're starting to get comfortable and enjoy the different things Tennessee has to offer. Sometimes trusting God can feel scary, but it's always worth it in the end. This will be God for you and your family :) No doubt. You might just hear God speak to you more than ever now that things are quieter 🩷😂 I know I've heard him a lot more since I've lived in Tennessee. Not only because Tennessee is super christian, but where I live is pretty quiet as well. Anyway, Keep up the good work! You're a great mother, great wife and a wonderful daughter to God. Xoxo