I need to find my way home,
Back to where memories are deep as the dew,
Faded with time but still timeless and true,
Back to where soft breezes whisper a prayer,
In my heart, I’m already there.
In my heart, I’m already there.
—“MY WAY HOME” BY KATHIE LEE GIFFORD
Our 1920s Mediterranean home on Long Island Sound has been my favorite place in the world ever since we bought it and moved in on Cassidy’s first birthday, August 2, 1994. Frank and I knew it was a miracle that we were able to purchase it. The house already had one offer on it from a wealthy Wall Street guy for way more than we could afford. But we made the best offer we could and started praying—barely breathing for four days while our realtor tried to seal the deal.
Finally, he called with the incredible news that the owner had agreed to sell the house to us.
“What? How did we get it? That’s impossible!” we responded incredulously. “We offered way less.”
The realtor told us, “I know. I’m telling you, in all my years in real estate I’ve never seen or heard anything like this.”
It seems that years ago the owner had attended a pro-am tennis event for charity. He paid a lot of money to play tennis with an elite group of athletes. But when he arrived and went to sign in, he discovered that his name was nowhere on the list of attendees. He was upset and embarrassed until suddenly someone came up next to him, put his hand out to shake, and said, “Hi, I’m Frank Gifford. How would you like to play with me today?”
The realtor chuckled. “He was a huge Giants fan and now he was face-to-face with his favorite player of all time.” All these years later, when it was time to decide whose offer to accept, he said, “I want Frank Gifford to own my house.”
There was never a moment in all the ensuing years that Frank and I didn’t marvel at the miracle. We kept expecting the real owners to show up at any moment and kick us out.
As the years passed, life brought many changes. Our kids moved to Southern California to pursue their dreams. Frank passed away in our sunroom and my precious mother, Joanie, died two years later. This once magnificent, bustling, filled-to-the-rafters-with-music-and-laughter home became a large, looming reminder of all that I had lost in my life. We’d had a daily tradition of toasting the sunset every evening. Now I’d go outside with my dogs and watch the dimming rays with crushing sadness.
I couldn’t do it anymore.
I went through the motions for the next few years—getting up early, climbing in the car for the commute to New York, and smiling and laughing for our wonderful viewers one TODAY after another. No one but my family and my closest friends knew the depth of the depression I was battling. I cried out to God for an answer, and as always, He spoke to my heart from His Word. “I know the plans I have for you . . . plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jer. 29:11).
Two years prior in 2017 I had given notice to my bosses at NBC that I would be leaving the show to finally follow my childhood dreams of movies and music. While they understood, they pleaded with me to stay and help them navigate the turbulent circumstances we were going through with the various personnel upheavals (Matt Lauer, Billy Bush, Megyn Kelly, to name a few) being played out on a daily basis in the media. It’s not easy to report the news when you’re actually making the news you’re supposed to report.
I continued to stay until I just couldn’t stay any longer. I’ve always had a keen sense of finality about certain things. I’ve come to understand it’s a moving of the Holy Spirit—a voice I’ve learned to listen to and trust.
On April 5, 2019, after eleven amazing years with my now dear friend Hoda, I said goodbye to TODAY and hello to tomorrow. And with great joy, I got on a plane with Jill Martin, our fabulous fashionista on the show, and Joanne Lamarca, our executive producer, and flew to Nashville to celebrate.
I had purchased a small townhouse several months before, deciding it was best not to invest too much if it turned out that I wasn’t as happy there as I had hoped. But I discovered almost immediately that Nashville was even more fun and exciting than I could have dreamed. I had a beautiful group of friends, a loving community of fellow believers, and an extraordinary pool of insanely talented writers to work with. The only thing I lacked was a home big enough to fit them all in. So, almost immediately I started looking for something larger.
I got into the habit of coming home after recording sessions and settling into my sofa on my small terrace to listen to the music I’d just been working on. It was cozy and comfortable. I’d often glance up, though, across a small alley next to me and see an exquisite townhouse three times as large as mine. I lusted after it. But the couple who lived there had designed and built the home themselves twelve years before and, by all accounts, had no plans to move. I kept looking.
One day while on my terrace, I heard a voice say, “Howdy, neighbor.”
Carol introduced herself, waving from the aforementioned terrace I coveted.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “Am I playing the music too loud?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “I love it! Crank it up!”
I adored her immediately. We talked for about twenty minutes, then I blurted out, “If you and your husband ever decide to sell your beautiful home, would you consider calling me before you put it on the market? I’d be very interested in talking to you about it.”
Carol smiled. I’m sure she heard that from somebody every day.
“Of course,” she said and disappeared inside.
Five months later I was literally about to sign a contract on a house I’d found when the realtor who was showing it to me said, “You know, there’s one more thing I want you to see before you buy this one.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s one of the townhouses,” he said.
“No, I’ve seen all of the ones that are available.”
“Well, this one isn’t even on the market yet, but the owners want to meet with you . . . it’s the double-wide.”
“What!” I shouted. “The double-wide? The one I lust after every day?”
“Yes.”
The next morning I took my first step into Carol and Mike’s townhouse. I knew instantly—I was home. I sat with them in their lovely living room and Carol teared up.
“You don’t understand,” she began. “Mike and I built this home twelve years ago. It took two years and we’ve loved every minute of it. We had no intention of moving anywhere. But two days ago I felt the Lord saying to me, ‘I want you to sell your house to Kathie Lee to be the blessing to her that she’s been to so many for so long.’”
I’m embarrassed to write this, but it’s a huge part of the miracle, so I can’t leave it out. Carol shared how she had been going through some difficult challenges in the years before. She would watch me on TV every day from her treadmill and feel inspired to keep going, keep believing, keep trusting that “God has this.”
Now it was my turn to tear up.
“But where will you go?” I asked them.
“We have no idea,” Carol laughed. “Do we, honey?”
“Nope,” Mike said, laughing too.
“God will take care of us.”
And He has. They are about to move into a brand-new home they built just a few blocks away from me. And I have no doubt we will be great friends for the rest of our lives.