For This House
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
March 2, 2026 | 8 min read
Michaela Misantone
Growing up, my family moved quite often. We weren’t a military family — life simply shifted with changing circumstances, jobs, church, and more. As much as I’d love to accompany those who fondly remember a single childhood home, I can’t. And I imagine I’m not alone in that.
Beyond the place you live, the word “home” carries a range of thoughts, feelings, and memories. It might call to mind the house you grew up in, a family home-place filled with laughter during the holidays, your first apartment with the crooked window, or the townhouse where your toddler colored on the walls. Wherever your mind goes, “home” holds meaning beyond a specific space.
My nomadic childhood taught me an important lesson about finding a sense of home, even in the temporary spaces; a mindset I now carry into adulthood. Rather than being tied to one place, home has become about shaping the space you are in to reflect what makes you feel safe, comfortable, and at peace.
Creating a home, to me, has come to mean much more than a set of house keys on my key ring or decorating according to trends. Home is where I enjoy time with the people I love; where the needs of my family are met and I am inspired daily. It’s where friends gather around warm meals, board games, and puzzles. It’s a place of refuge in hard seasons and comfort on difficult days — an atmosphere shaped by rhythms that invite rest for the soul. And all of this is possible in any space, even a temporary one. These feelings aren’t dependent on having my own kitchen or a perfectly styled living room; they can be cultivated anywhere.
This mindset has been especially meaningful in my current season of life, as my husband and I are temporarily living with family during a time of transition. After four years in our first home, we now find ourselves in an in-between space. While it isn’t entirely ours, we’re still able to make it home. As Frances Mayes writes in A Place in the World: Finding the Meaning of Home, “Much about home is imagining home.” Perspective — and the willingness to imagine — matters more than physical permanence.
Scripture reminds us that our ultimate home is not found here on earth, but in a heavenly reality. Paul writes, “For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down … we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself” (2 Cor. 5:1 NLT). Similarly, Hebrews tells us, “For every house has a builder, but the one who built everything is God” (Heb. 3:4).
While we are called to steward the spaces God gives us (cf. 1 Pet. 4:10), our earthly dwellings will always fall short. True safety, peace, and comfort are found in releasing perfection and redirecting our focus toward our eternal home in Christ. When we rest in this truth, temporary spaces lose their weight — and the temporary no longer feels trivial.
What does it practically look like to make a temporary space feel like home? Since we moved in with family, I’ve made note of a few things we’ve done to make our space feel like home:
While many of our belongings are stored away for now, I was intentional about bringing along the items that made our old space feel especially homey. For us, that meant our beloved quilts, espresso machine, favorite coffee mugs, and a small collection of books (both well-loved favorites and anticipated reads) came along.
We moved in during the holidays, and I wanted our space to feel personal to our own Christmas traditions. So when I walked into a local grocery store and spotted a collection of live four-foot Christmas trees (team live tree forever!), I knew one had to come home with me. Since we weren’t picking out a tree for a living room this year, I wanted something that would still feel memorable.
I stuffed that little tree into the back of our Subaru and tucked it into the corner of our temporary bedroom in my parents’ home. After stringing it with lights and a few favorite ornaments, I knew I’d made the right choice. We filled the bed with Christmas pillows, hung our stockings from coat hooks, and added a handful of decorations we love. It brought the space to life and made it feel a little more like ours. Even without a full house to decorate, the ritual of Christmas decorating helped our temporary space feel like home to us.
Even though the decorations have come down now, we continue finding small ways to make our space welcoming and meaningful with the keepsakes that matter most to us.
I’ve found that organizing according to our daily rhythms and routines makes all the difference in helping a space feel homey and relaxing. What makes a space feel like home is that it is known and comfortable. A space organized intentionally is easy to move through, with everything where you need it — your favorite lap blanket over your morning reading chair, supplements on the breakfast table, skincare by the bathroom mirror, wallet and keys in the basket by the front door, and the tea box beside the kettle for your evening cup. These small rituals make up a life lived in a home.
I’ve moved countless times, and the first few weeks are always the hardest because you’re still learning new rhythms — and nothing is quite where you need it yet. You’re rushing to the closet for a hat and gloves on a cold morning, or searching for chapstick that’s on your desk instead of in the bathroom. It’s the little things that shape how comfortable you feel in a new space, and whether it feels tailored to your life the way a home should.
Organizing according to daily rhythms — rather than how we think habits should be or how homes are “supposed” to function — is something I’ve learned along the way, and it has made all the difference. Especially when you’re trying to make a temporary space feel like home.
Here are a few articles that explore this idea more deeply:
Lastly, in the conversation about daily rhythms, another thing that has helped us navigate this transition is maintaining familiar routines. Even though many of our rhythms are now intertwined with my family’s, we’ve been intentional about carrying some of our own with us. For Ben and I, that means weekly dates, making coffee together in the mornings, reading in the evenings before bed, visiting coffee shops, watching a show together, cooking favorite meals, and going on walks with our dog, Willow.
While we’re learning new rhythms in this space, holding on to what’s familiar has made this temporary season feel more grounding and less disorienting — a reminder that continuity doesn’t depend on place, but on the small, shared practices that travel with us.
Living with family can be hard. The combining of lives can cause upheaval for everyone involved, and it often takes time to adjust. It’s easy for differences in habits, preferences, and expectations to create friction, and for those tensions to get in the way of living together in harmony. I know many people who have found themselves in difficult living situations with family — experiences that can strain relationships and turn what should be a supportive arrangement into a dreaded one.
Thankfully, our relationship with these family members is not a tumultuous one, which has made this season a largely peaceful experience. Even so, sharing a home while still living separate lives requires intention. There are a few practices that have helped us maintain that peace and approach this season with grace as we navigate life together in the same space.
While we’ve worked to maintain familiar routines of our own, we’ve also had to recognize that thriving together requires flexibility. Altering some of our rhythms to accommodate others has been essential to creating a peaceful home. For us, that has looked like:
Every family dynamic is different, and every individual brings their own preferences and patterns into a shared space. Still, learning to adjust our rhythms to align with those around us helps create an environment marked by peace rather than tension.
The apostle Paul exhorts believers in his letter to the Romans, “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all” (Rom. 12:18). As far as it depends on us, this season has been an invitation to practice that calling — even when it means loosening our grip on what feels familiar.
As is often said in relational contexts, communication truly is key. Being honest and clear about expectations, boundaries, and desires makes all the difference when sharing a home. Without open communication, it’s easy for misunderstandings to grow into resentment, which can quietly undermine unity within the household.
These conversations aren’t always comfortable — especially when different lifestyles and rhythms collide — but choosing to have them is an act of care. Clear, kind communication creates space for mutual understanding, and ultimately allows everyone to live together with greater harmony and respect.
Living with family in a shared space requires humility, flexibility, and patience. It asks us to hold our routines with open hands, to communicate clearly, and to choose peace whenever possible. While no living arrangement is without its challenges, approaching this season with grace has allowed us to experience it not as a burden, but as a meaningful chapter of shared life.
This season of living in a temporary space has reinforced a lesson I first learned growing up: home is not defined by permanence, ownership, or perfect design. Home is shaped by daily rhythms, familiar routines, meaningful keepsakes, and the people we share life with. It is cultivated through small rituals — morning coffee, evening reading, shared meals — and sustained by a posture of imagination and perspective.
Even in an in-between space, even without full control, it is possible to foster a sense of home. When we organize our lives around our real rhythms, carry forward what is familiar, communicate with intention, and live graciously with those around us, temporary spaces begin to feel less transient and more grounding.
Ultimately, this posture not only helps us make peace with where we are — it reminds us that all of our earthly homes are, in some sense, temporary. And when we learn to rest in the truth of our eternal home, we are free to live generously and faithfully in whatever space we find ourselves.
Dear Lord,
In this temporary space, may you meet me and sustain me in the transience of life. As I make my home here, guide me to focus first on the eternal perspective of my home with You. Thank you for meeting us in the ever-changing seasons of life, for comforting us and giving us peace when all feels out of our control.
Help me to steward this home you have given us—a space to rest our heads in this time. Grant us rest and safety here, and a sense of home regardless of temporary circumstances. Likewise, give us the grace and care to live peacefully with others.
Bless this home with Your peace, and unify us as a family during this season of shared living. May it be a time full of great joy and blessing. Thank you, Father, for Your daily provision.
Amen.
Michaela is a wife and freelance writer/editor living in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. She can often be found curled up with a book, writing in her journal, or tending to her home and garden. You can follow her homemaking journey at @everjoyhome and writing ventures at @michaelajmisantone.
Michaela is a wife and freelance writer/editor living in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. She can often be found curled up with a book, writing in her journal, or tending to her home and garden. You can follow her homemaking journey at @everjoyhome and writing ventures at @michaelajmisantone.