Personal Narrative: Moving To A Home

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July 2013, during my junior year of high school, my family and I moved to the United States. At that time, school was about to start and in order to enroll us in school, my parents had to provide proof of residency. We rented a really nice house in suburban Atlanta, while we started house searching. We didn't find any houses that fit our budget or were suitable for us, so we put off searching for a while.
At the time, my sisters and I didn't quite understand why it was so important, because looking for a house seemed unnecessary. We fell in love with the house we were renting and the area we were living in, so we didn’t want to leave. The house was big, spacious, and we all had our own rooms and the neighborhood was nice and quiet. We didn’t
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She asked us to pray that we would find a house, that we would be able to pay my tuition, and that she would get a job; I like to believe that was her way of opening up to us about what was heavy on her mind. Every night we would pray each prayer point, meditating on it for a while, yet, even though none of us would admit it, we were slowly starting to lose hope. My sisters and I had eventually gotten to the point where we were almost positive we wouldn’t find a house but stilled hoped we would be able to pay my tuition and that my mom would get a job. My mom, on the other hand, was so persistent with her prayers concerning everything. She had so much faith that God would see us through. As a christian family, that was how we should all have been but as the saying goes “seeing is believing.” We had the mindset that since nothing is happening and we couldn't physically see anything happening yet that nothing would happen. We didn’t even think God would do anything. After a while, though, everything died down. It wasn’t until the summer before I came to college that the fiscal issues, which led to emotional stress, started to come

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