Orlando Wasn’t Forever, But It Changed Us
Boxes and suitcases lined the hallway, half-open, their contents spilling little fragments of our life — Mason’s well-loved dinosaurs, a coffee mug we carried from Belgium, a stack of books that still smelled faintly like the Florida sun.
We’d been here six months, but in so many ways, it felt like a layover between two flights — not the destination, but not the departure either.
When we landed in Orlando, it wasn’t part of some master plan. It was a desire… a wish to finally spread our wings. After 1.5 years of living in my parents’ house — after immigrating, after adjusting to an entirely new chapter — we realized we needed our own space. Space to breathe. Space to figure out our own family flow.
Because when we first moved here, that’s really when we first became a family of five. Billie was with us 100% of the time now, in my home country, speaking my native tongue. Nakoa was just three months old. And though we’d been married almost seven years, this was the first time I’d get to be the woman of my own home — in my own culture.
Orlando was meant to be a two-year season, maybe more. A place to settle in, to create a rhythm as The Cleymans. Instead, it became a crash course in adjusting… in ways we never expected.
When we first arrived, our business was still being built. To make ends meet, Kim and I each took odd jobs outside the home — tag-teaming life between work and family. Mason’s new pre-K turned into a heartbreaking surprise, and after just three days, we pulled him out and started homeschooling far earlier than planned. Billie began online school for the first time. Suddenly, all of us were home together — many hours a day — learning not only how to co-exist, but how to truly live and grow as one family.
And then, barely a month in, we learned our new home would only be ours for six months. The details aren’t important here. What matters is that it sent us to our knees, asking God, What’s next?
Orlando gave us days at the local farm where the boys fed cows and pigs and chased lizards.
It gave us late-night kitchen talks about dreams, fears, and everything in between.
It gave me quiet mornings with coffee in hand, finally able to hear my own thoughts, finally able to feel the grounding of having a home that was truly ours.
It also gave us the hard days — the restless ones where we wondered why we weren’t “further along,” the moments I questioned if we’d taken a wrong turn.
It was also the first time in my life that I’d ever moved back somewhere.
Since I was 15, my life had been a string of forward leaps — New York to Central Florida, South Florida for university, Los Angeles to chase my career, a year in San Diego for a refresh, Antwerp for love, Mechelen for a new chapter, and finally immigrating to West Florida. But never once had I returned to a place I had already lived. Until now.
And coming back to Orlando was surreal.
I hadn’t lived here since my early twenties. Now, here I was — with a husband, three kids, and a lifetime of experiences tucked in my heart — walking down streets that felt familiar and brand new all at once. Mason even got to play baseball for the same town I graduated from — wearing the same team colors I wore.
I took the kids to the places I’d once worked at Disney World, to my teenage hangout spots, and even introduced them to friends and family who were still here, including my nephew and his family. It felt like God had tied a golden thread from who I was then to who I am now.
And yet, looking back, I see His fingerprints everywhere.
Because in those six months, we didn’t just live in Orlando. We became The Cleyman Family: two people still crazy in love, raising a teenager, a five-year-old, and a toddler, finding our flow one day at a time.
Orlando wasn’t forever. But it was for us.
It was the hallway between rooms, the pause before the leap.
And as we packed those boxes again, I knew:
We were ready.
We were stronger.
We were listening.
Because sometimes the seasons that feel like “waiting rooms” are actually God’s classrooms — shaping you for what’s coming next.
Have you ever had a season that wasn’t forever but was exactly what you needed? I’d love to hear your story in the comments.
And if you want to come with us into our next chapter, make sure you’re on our newsletter list — it’s about to get exciting.
-Cheyanne Cleyman
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