I want to share with you a moment from our journey—a storm we had to weather on the way to building the life we dreamed of here in Iowa.
After selling our home in Colorado, we thought we’d found the perfect farm—a sprawling agricultural property with a pond near Waterloo. It felt like destiny. But looking back now, the red flags were everywhere, waving wildly, as if to warn us. Instead of heeding them, we pushed forward, blinded by hope and determination.
The delays started almost immediately. Paperwork moved at a snail’s pace, and yet we told ourselves it was nothing out of the ordinary. Then came the inspection. The property had taken on water in the basement—something no one had mentioned until we uncovered it. But still, we pressed on.
There’s one moment from that inspection that sticks with me. As we walked the property, a car drove by. Slowly. Too slowly. Something about it made my stomach twist, but I brushed it off, convincing myself it wasn’t worth worrying over.
A few days later, everything came crashing down. Our realtor called with unexpected news: the seller no longer wanted to sell the property to us. We hadn’t even received the full inspection report yet. It didn’t make sense.
And then it got worse.
The seller tried to press trespassing charges against us. Against us—buyers with a signed inspection agreement allowing us to be there. Our realtor had to intervene, showing the police our paperwork to clear up the situation. It was messy, humiliating, and, honestly, devastating.
We had poured so much time, money, and emotion into this property. But it was clear we needed to walk away. And so, we did.
After that ordeal, I built walls around myself. I became jaded, angry, and skeptical. Every argument about whether Iowa was truly the right place to plant roots only solidified those walls. Ryan, on the other hand, never wavered.
“This is our home,” he’d say, his voice steady. “One bad experience won’t take that away.”
To him, it was a stumble, not a fall. Where I saw betrayal, he saw a chance to try again. It’s always been Ryan who believes in second chances, who sees the good in people—even when I can’t.
Eventually, we came across a new opportunity: the Extreme Home Makeover house in Gladbrook. That’s a story for another day, but we purchased the property in December 2020.
By spring of 2021, I was still guarded. I wasn’t ready to trust this new chapter. Then one afternoon, the doorbell rang. We weren’t expecting anyone, and truthfully, we rarely get company.
I opened the door to meet Gary O., one of our neighbors. He introduced himself warmly, gave us his number, and even stopped by later that day to help us with a project.
I don’t think he realized it then, but Gary shattered the walls I had spent months building. His kindness, his willingness to show up for us—a couple of strangers—was more than a neighborly gesture. It was hope.
Gary became the first to remind me of something I had forgotten: there are still good people in the world, people who will clap for you even when the room is silent.
Over time, I began to see it wasn’t just Gary. We were surrounded by neighbors and a community who cheered for us in ways big and small. Their kindness turned Iowa into more than a place to live—it became home.
I see it now. We are exactly where we’re supposed to be. Sometimes, you just have to get through the storm to appreciate the calm that follows.
I debated whether to share this story, but it’s an important part of our journey. It reminds me that every setback we face throws a little more fuel on the fire of determination—to accomplish something extraordinary or die trying.
Moral of the story… Kindness is powerful. You have the ability to make a difference in someone’s life. Have the courage to clap even if it means you may be the only one clapping in a silent room.
Be someone’s Gary. ♥️
– ❤️✌🏼 Jamie
Moral Of The Story 