Moving in Faith: Risk, Resistance, and the Road Ahead

We’re packing up our whole lives in Arizona, ready to make the biggest and riskiest move we’ve ever made. We’re moving our family, our horses, and our school across the country…and we don’t even know if we’ll have a place to move in to when we get there.

Several months earlier, in the fall, we found the perfect property: a 10,500-square-foot house on 64 acres, with a 6,000-square-foot commercial building that would become the new location for Milan Art Institute. I had just finished teaching a five-month Mastery Program intensive, and the 12 students had graduated.

The last few months have been a flurry of nonstop work and action to accomplish our giant relocation. We had some money tied up in the equity of the school property in Arizona, owned by my parents, and planned to use that as part of the down payment.

A buyer came forward—a Mastery Program student who wanted to build her own art school from the local pocket I had created there since 2010, focusing on youth and teenagers in the area. I offered to leave equipment and supplies, helped her create her website, and gave advice on class structure and goals. I even offered her our local mailing list.

She was incredibly excited. At her graduation, I promoted her and her school and hoped she would have a fantastic start. But three days before we were scheduled to close and move across the country, she got cold feet and pulled out her cash offer.

We were counting on that money to close our loan. Without it, the financing fell apart.

She insisted on getting her earnest money back because we were “friends” and it was the decent thing to do. The moving trucks were ordered, our horses were already picked up, and everything was boxed and ready to load.

Yet we didn’t have anywhere to go.

Without financing, our deal on the Georgia property was dead.

Our Dark Night

I let our realtor and lender know what happened and prayed for a miracle. We were short about $100K and didn’t know what to do.

Our realtor called. “This may be a long shot,” she said, “but I know a guy who loans money privately on real estate. The interest rate will be high, but you can refinance later. You might even refinance in six months based on the equity since you got such a good deal.”

I felt nervous. It sounded like some mafia-type loan shark situation, and I pictured broken knees.

“I don’t know… This sounds sketchy. Are you sure?”

“Look, he may not even do it. But I’ve worked with him before. If you sell him the idea, he might. His name is Bruce Wayne. I’ll get you his number. If he goes for it, he can get you the money within three days.”

Bruce Wayne.

Like Batman.

I couldn’t believe I was about to try to get a last-minute personal loan from Batman.

After psyching myself up, I called him. He answered immediately.

“Hi, Mr. Bruce.” I couldn’t bring myself to say his last name. “I got your number from our realtor, Sandy. She said you sometimes give personal loans for real estate.” I explained what had happened and told him we were supposed to close January 15 and only had a few days to figure things out.

“If you will put $130K of your own money into this and it will be your primary residence, I’ll think about it,” he said. “Send me the address and the selling price. I’ll check it out and let you know in three days. If I do it, the interest rate is 17 percent. You must refinance within a year.”

Three days.

I realized we would already be somewhere in Texas by then, but I didn’t want to upset Bruce Wayne.

“Yes,” I said carefully. “But if there’s any way you could let me know sooner…”

“NO. Three days. Don’t call me. Don’t email me. I’ll call you.”

Yikes.

“Ok, sir. I look forward to hearing from you.”

No Guarantees

Now what?

Do we still leave? If we don’t leave on schedule, we won’t make closing. If he says no, we’ll have all our things and nowhere to go. Two U-Hauls, four cars, and horses headed to a house we can’t buy.

I am standing in a real walk of faith.

Was the student backing out a sign we shouldn’t move? Or was it resistance because this is exactly what we’re supposed to do—and God is going to send Batman to save the day?

The consensus among our group of 14 relocating to Georgia is to move forward and believe for the best. So we keep packing boxes and act as though everything is fine.

Our realtor tells the title company financing is coming. I don’t hear from Bruce Wayne for the next couple of days and don’t dare call him.

Moving day arrives, and we say goodbye to our home in Arizona, which holds more than ten years of memories—horseback rides, barbecues, birthday parties, the start of Milan Art Institute, and countless precious friendships.

We are stepping into a turning point for the school.

Or are we?

I wish I could say I have complete faith. But I am filled with doubt and pressure, feeling entirely responsible. I don’t want to face the possibility that Batman will say no and the school will suddenly look unstable.

At the Crossroads

The entire drive that morning, my heart is in my throat. I keep watching the time, waiting for Bruce’s call. I quietly start building Plan B in my mind. Maybe we could go to Georgia anyway. Put our things in storage. Board the horses somewhere. Rent a space to film the rest of the Mastery Program.

Still, I hope for a miracle.

While pumping gas near El Paso, my phone rings.

I understand the significance immediately. I am standing at a crossroads.

“Elli, this is Bruce Wayne. I’m going to do it. Send me the name of your title company and I’ll wire the money. I’ll email you my terms. Let me know by 8pm if you object to anything.”

That’s it.

He never asks for my social security number. Doesn’t run a credit check. Doesn’t ask what I do for a living. I don’t know if he’s a billionaire, a lawyer, a realtor, a mafioso… or Batman.

He is Bruce.

And now he’s lending me $720K.

I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a miracle.

A New Season Begins

When our horses finally arrive at the new property, we don’t have the fencing ready, so we take turns sitting in the garage on rubber mats babysitting them. As I’m sitting there listening to Beau softly chew his hay and occasionally snort with satisfaction, I think about the last few months. It’s all coming together. Soon the horses will have a pasture until we build the barn.

We have a beautiful property tucked inside a magical forest and a 6,000-square-foot school space, with a long waitlist already forming for the September 2020 Mastery Program. Dimitra and Jake are getting married in two weeks right here in the forest.

I can sense a significant shift coming. I know my life will never be the same.

I feel brave.

I feel empowered.

I know the courage I carry isn’t coming from me alone. It comes from seeing God come through again and again. This school was His idea. He has proven more times than I can count that He will protect it and provide for it. My only job is to walk with Him and trust.

I can feel my wings spreading wide again.

That same quiet strength I had begun to recognize before was still there, growing. Watching Beau eat calmly in this strange place after such a long journey, I could see how far we had come together. After eight years with Beau, we had faced fears, betrayals, disappointments, and the weight that comes with responsibility and success.

We had grown wings now. Not suddenly, but slowly, through every step that required trust before we could see the outcome.

We were learning how to soar above the distractions and the battleground below.

We just had to keep our eyes on the North Star of our vision and trust the path.

It was the end of January 2020. A global pandemic and shutdown were just ahead of us. But for that month, and the wedding to come, we were blissfully unaware—celebrating in the quiet refuge our gentle forest provided.

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