Coffee & Common Grounds

 In 2002, when we moved to Cuero, we arrived with uncertainty tucked into every corner of our plans. Donnie had accepted the Superintendent’s position in Westhoff, but with housing scarce, we were told we could look elsewhere. We didn’t know where we would live or how things would unfold—we only knew the Lord would have to guide our steps. 

While I was at an interview—one that would become my workplace for the next seven years—Donnie happened to drive past a house still under a bit of construction. The owners were outside working in the yard. Something stirred in him, and he stopped to talk with them. By the time he picked me up, he said gently, almost quietly, “I found a house I want you to look at.” Little did I know that 601 N. Terrell would become our home for the next twenty three years. 

The owners, Bob and Flo Miller, welcomed us with a warmth that felt like it had been waiting for us. They walked us through the house, explaining the work they had done, the history behind it, and the love they had poured into restoring it. As I stepped through each room, something in my spirit whispered, This is home. I knew it before we ever signed a paper. 

Months after moving in, Flo invited us to their church. Again—little did I know—that church would become our home church, and still is to this day.

Flo and I formed a bond that felt heaven sent. She became a surrogate mother to me: encouraging me, counseling me, laughing with me, crying with me, and wrapping me in her short, sweet arms when life felt too heavy to carry alone. One day, during one of our visits, she told me she had prayed us into the house. And I believed her. I still do.

Because this house has been exactly that—prayed over, prayed through, and prayed into purpose. It has welcomed strangers. It has sheltered family members in times of need. It has been a refuge for the grieving, the weary, and the searching. Missionaries, evangelists, authors, and wanderers have crossed its threshold. People who were lost found peace here. People who were hurting found rest. People who needed Jesus found Him waiting in the quiet corners of this home.

How fitting that the couple who revived this house were missionaries themselves—Bob and Flo Miller, servants of God who poured their lives into a Mexican Mission Trade School in Mexico. Their love for the Lord and their passion for His work shaped every inch of this home. Their family lived out the gospel with a sincerity that left an imprint on everyone who knew them.

And somehow, by the Holy Spirit’s orchestration, they invited us to step into the story they had begun. This house became a reflection of them—of their faith, their love, their obedience. And over the years, it became a reflection of what God can do when we simply make ourselves available. 

It has been a mission home, a healing home, a joyful home, a home where Christ’s love has been felt in ways too deep for words.

And yes—there are angels here. Real ones. They love music, they linger close, and they have made their presence known more than once. That’s a story for another day, but trust me—they exist, and they have kept watch. 

I’m writing all of this because I want it recorded somewhere—what this home has meant to us, what God has done within these walls, and how grateful we are for every moment we were entrusted with it.

Now, the Lord has opened the door for us to establish another home—another place for Him to dwell, another space for His work to continue. As we prepare to leave 601 N. Terrell, we do so with reverence, gratitude, and peace. This home has fulfilled its calling, and we have done our best to honor what God intended it to be.

And as we step into the new home He has provided, our prayer is simple: Let it be the same, Lord. Let it be Yours. Let it welcome, shelter, comfort, and restore. Let it be a place where Your presence is felt the moment someone walks through the door. 

And yes—we’re hoping our angels will follow us. We believe they will. And we pray they’ll give notice to others who are meant to join us in the next chapter. All are welcome. Holy Spirit, let them come.